“We are in the hands of God,” was the reply.
“So am I,” said Miss Moffat, and took the lad’s white fingers in her own.
“Who is attending him,” she asked.
“Mr. Hanlon—who but him? He had a right to do all he could for us; and I’ll say that, in his benefit, he has done it.
“Why was it his right?” asked Grace, ignoring all the rest of the sentence save that which jarred on her ear.
“Because him, and men like him, made the good man what—what— There, God help us, Miss Grace! Go away or you’ll be hearing me raving worse than my poor lad did when first he lay bad, and likely be taken yourself.”
“I am not afraid,” said Grace, but she moved towards the door as she spoke. “Mrs. Scott, I shall see Amos to-morrow I hope; what am I to tell him?”
“Tell him what you’ve seen, Miss Grace.”
“And what else?” asked her visitor.
“I don’t just understand. Oh! yes, I do. Downstairs if you please, Miss. I’ll follow you.”