clater told
him where in her room to find a copy, and presently he had satisfied
himself that it was indeed Mr. Worldly Wiseman whom his imagination
had, in cloudy fashion, been placing side by side with the talking
minister.

Finding his return delayed, Mrs. Sclater went after him, fearing he
might be indulging his curiosity amongst her personal possessions.
Peeping in, she saw him seated on the floor beside her little
bookcase, lost in reading: she stole behind, and found that what so
absorbed him was the conversation between Christian and Worldly--I
beg his pardon, he is nothing without his Mr.--between Christian and
Mr. Worldly Wiseman.

In the evening, when her husband was telling her what he had said to
"the young Pharisee" in the morning, the picture of Gibbie on the
floor, with the Pilgrim's Progress and Mr. Worldly Wiseman, flashed
back on her mind, and she told him the thing. It stung him, not
that Gibbie should perhaps have so paralleled him, but that his wife
should so interpret Gibbie. To her, however, he said nothing. Had
he been a better man, he would have been convinced by the lesson; as
it was, he was only convicted, and instead of repenting was offended
grievously. For several days he kept expecting the religious gadfly
to come buzzing about him with his sting, that is, his forefinger,
stuck in the Pilgrim's Progress, and had a swashing blow ready for
him; but Gibbie was beginning to learn a lesson or two, and if he
was not yet so wise as some serpents, he had always been more
harmless than some doves.

That he had gained nothing for the world was pretty evident to the
minister the following Sunday--from the lofty watchtower of the
pulpit where he sat throned, while the first psalm was being sung.
His own pew was near one of the side doors, and at that door some
who were late kept coming in. Amongst them were a stranger or two,
who were at once shown to seats. Before the psalm ended, an old man
came in and stood by the door--a poor man in mean garments, with the
air of a beggar who had contrived to give himself a Sunday look.
Perhaps he had come hoping to find it warmer in church than at
home. There he stood, motionless as the leech-gatherer, leaning on
his stick, disregarded of men--it may have been only by innocent
accident, I do not know. But just ere the minister must rise for
the first prayer, he saw Gibbie, who had heard a feeble cough, cast
a glance round, rise as swiftly as noisel