'Wull ye lat me tak this wi' me, grannie?' said Robert; for though the portrait was useless for identification, it might serve a further purpose.
'Ow, ay, tak it. I dinna want it. I can see him weel wantin' that. But I hae nae houp left 'at ye'll ever fa' in wi' him.'
'God's aye doin' unlikly things, grannie,' said Robert, solemnly.
'He's dune a' 'at he can for him, I doobt, already.'
'Duv ye think 'at God cudna save a man gin he liket, than, grannie?'
'God can do a'thing. There's nae doobt but by the gift o' his speerit he cud save a'body.'
'An' ye think he's no mercifu' eneuch to do 't?'
'It winna do to meddle wi' fowk's free wull. To gar fowk be gude wad be nae gudeness.'
'But gin God could actually create the free wull, dinna ye think he cud help it to gang richt, withoot ony garrin'? We ken sae little aboot it, grannie! Hoo does his speerit help onybody? Does he gar them 'at accep's the offer o' salvation?'
'Na, I canna think that. But he shaws them the trowth in sic a way that they jist canna bide themsel's, but maun turn to him for verra peace an' rist.'