The awful "Amen," drawled out to an indefinite length, with the author's name, on the end, was irresistible. J. P. broke into a shout of laughter. For a moment, Lawyer Ed's eyes gleamed in the darkness, but only for a moment, then he too gave way, and when Lawyer Ed laughed, a really good hearty laugh, it was a musical performance that did not stop until every one within hearing was joining in the chorus.
And then Jock began to realise that he had been witty again. He paused and bethought himself of what he had done, and he too saw how funny it was. He did not laugh right out at first. Jock's mirth, like his wit, was too deliberate for that. He began by uttering a low subterranean sort of chuckle, which finally worked to the surface in a rhythmic shaking of his whole sturdy little body. By this time J. P. was leaning against a tree wiping his eyes, and everybody up and down the street was smiling and saying, "That's Lawyer Ed's laugh. What's he up to now, I wonder?" Jock checked his mirth quickly; it was not seemly to rejoice too heartily over one's own humour, but before the joy of it had left, by an adroit turn, J. P. had sent the conversation into its proper channel.
"A good joke on you, Ed!" he cried. "I must tell that to Angus McRae. Angus doesn't love the 'Amen' too much either, Jock."
"Angus is in great trouble," exclaimed Lawyer Ed, wiping his eyes and trying to look serious. "Did you hear about it, Jock?"
Jock had not heard, so the story of little Roderick's rainbow expedition and his father's consequent heart affection was quickly told. And when the splendid plan to help was adroitly unfolded, Jock was quick to respond. It was the psychological moment; Thomas Hastings had driven away all dourness and Angus McRae's case was safe.
The two friends walked homeward under the shadows of the maples, the night-air sweet with the perfume of many gardens. They were both very happy, so happy indeed, that, as usual, they walked miles before they finally settled for the night.
First, J. P. recollected again that fine article in the British Weekly, and strolled up the hill with his friend while he gave a synopsis of it. When they reached the gate, Lawyer Ed remembered that he should have told J. P. about old man Cassidy's will and the trouble Mike was in over it, and so returned to J. P.'s gate. The Cassidy will was finished and J. P. in the midst of another fascinating article on Imperial Federation, when they reached there, and Lawyer Ed made him come up the hill again so that he might hear it. It was their usual manner of going home after a session meeting.
"And may I ask," said J. P., when their personal part in the financing of Angus's affairs had been finally settled, and they stood at his gate for the third and last time, "may I ask, if it is not too curious on my part, if you intend to appropriate church funds for your contribution, or just rob the bank?" For J. P. knew well that Lawyer Ed's extravagant generosity always kept him on the edge of poverty.
"Well, neither. Jock mightn't think the first was orthodox. I don't believe he'd object so strongly to the second, but it mightn't be successful. I think,—yes, I'm afraid, I must draw on the Jerusalem Fund again."
"Of course, I knew you would. Let me see; that's seven times we've stayed home from the Holy Land, isn't it?—the perfect number. A person naturally thinks of sevens in connection with Bible places."