“Yes, in some people. But that is the thing God looks at: that is it for which Christ died, and for which Christ’s servants ought to feel love and pity.”
I thought it would be terribly difficult to feel love or pity for some people!
My Uncle Charles has just come in, and he says a rumour is flying that there has been a great battle near Edinburgh, and that the Prince (who was victorious) is marching on Carlisle. Flora went very white, and even Annas set her lips: but I do not see what we have to fear—at least if Angus and Mr Keith are safe.
“Charles,” said Grandmamma, “where are those white cockades we used to have?”
“I haven’t a notion, Mother.”
Nor had my Aunt Dorothea. But when Perkins was asked, she said, “Isn’t it them, Madam, as you pinned in a parcel, and laid away in the garret?”
“Oh, I dare say,” said Grandmamma. “Fetch them down, and let us see if they are worth anything.”
So Perkins fetched the parcel, and the cockades were looked over, and pronounced useable by torchlight, though too bad a colour for the day-time.
“Keep the packet handy, Perkins,” said Grandmamma.
“Shall I give them out now, Madam?” asked Perkins.