“Ah, that explains! I have not been home since breakfast.”
“It was to say my father would like to see you.”
“I will go and get it: then I shall know what to do.”
“Why do you live there? The cobbler is a dirty little man! Your clothes will smell of leather!”
“He is not dirty,” said Donal. “His hands do get dirty—very dirty with his work—and his face too; and I daresay soap and water can’t get them quite clean. But he will have a nice earth-bath one day, and that will take all the dirt off. And if you could see his soul—that is as clean as clean can be—so clean it is quite shining!”
“Have you seen it?” said the boy, looking up at Donal, unsure whether he was making game of him, or meaning something very serious.
“I have had a glimpse or two of it. I never saw a cleaner.—You know, my dear boy, there’s a cleanness much deeper than the skin!”
“I know!” said Davie, but stared as if he wondered he would speak of such things.
Donal returned his gaze. Out of the fullness of his heart his eyes shone. Davie was reassured.
“Can you ride?” he asked.