Poor Christie did not speak, so Treffy went on:—
"The lightning seems like God looking at me, Christie, and the thunder seems like God's voice, and I am afraid of Him. I don't love Him, Christie; I don't love Him."
And again the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, and again old Treffy shook from head to foot.
"I shouldn't like to die to-night, Christie," he said; "and the lightning comes so very near me. Christie, boy, do you know what sin is?" he whispered.
"Yes," said Christie; "it's doing wrong things, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Treffy, "and I've done a many of them, Christie; and it's thinking bad thoughts, and I've thought a many of them, Christie; and it's saying bad words, and I've said a many of them, Christie. But I never cared about it before to-night."
"How did you come to care about it to-night?" asked Christie.
"I've had a dream, Christie, boy, and it has made me tremble."
"Tell me it, Master Treffy," pleaded Christie.
"I was thinking of what you said about loving Jesus, and I fell asleep, and I thought I was standing before a beautiful gate; it was made of gold, Christie, and over the gate there was some shining letters. I spelt them out, and they were, 'Home, sweet Home,' Christie, and I said to myself, 'I've found it at last; I wish Christie was here.' But just then someone opened the gate, and said, 'What do you want, old man?' 'I want to come in,' I said. 'I'm very tired, and I want to be at home.' But he shut the gate, and said to me very gravely and sorrowfully, 'No sin can come in here.' And Christie, I felt as if I was nothing but sin, so I turned round and walked away, and it grew very dark. And just then came the thunder, and I awoke; I can't forget it, Christie; I can't forget it," said old Treffy.