“What do you wish me to say?”
Mr Keith’s tone was cold and constrained, I thought.
“Why don’t you tell me I am an unhanged reprobate, and that you are ashamed to be seen walking with me? You know you are thinking it.”
“No, Angus. I was thinking something very different.”
“What, then?” asked Angus, sulkily.
“‘Doth He not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until He find it?’”
There was no coldness in Mr Keith’s tone now.
“What has that got to do with it?” growled Angus in his throat.
“Angus,” was the soft answer, “the sheep sometimes makes it a very hard journey for Him.”
I know I ought to have risen and crept away long before this: but I did not. It was not right of me, but I sat on. I knew they could not see me through the wall, nor could they get across it at any place so near that I could not be gone far enough before they could catch sight of me.