“And where is the school, my dear?”
“Oh, if you please, it is four miles from here at Bellfield. And you has through the dark Hazelhead woods to go, where sometimes the robbers kills folks. Williamie Gordon and I isn’t afraid, ’cause we is too small to bother killing, and we have nothing to rob. But you wouldn’t be afraid, ’cause you’s a big fine man, and could kill them back again.”
Sandie laughed at the droll conceit. But he promised he would come in spite of the robbers. Then he rung the bell, and five minutes after that the two children were doing justice to a hearty supper.
Then the wee toddlers started back on their long and dreary journey, arriving home safe and sound.
After they had gone, Sandie went straight up-stairs, chose a text, and never lifted his head from over his desk until he had written a good long sermon.
With this in his pocket—as he thought—he started on the Sunday afternoon for Bellfield school. His child friends were there to give him a hearty welcome, and an invitation to supper after the sermon.
Every one was struck with the young man’s appearance and manner. He gave out a psalm and conducted the singing. He prayed long and fervently. Then he opened the Book, and after giving out his text, placed his hand in his pocket to produce his manuscript.
It was gone!
His heart seemed to leap clean out of him; his head swam, and he almost fell. Then he bent his brow reverently over the Bible and prayed for strength.
Slowly and in short constrained sentences he began to speak, but he gathered strength as he went on, he waxed eloquent, impassioned; he could scarcely believe it was he himself who was talking.