And still the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, and still old Treffy trembled.
Christie could not comfort him, for he was very much afraid himself; but he pressed very close up to his side, and did not leave him till the storm was over, and there was no sound but the heavy downpour of the rain on the roof of the attic. Then he crept back to bed and fell asleep.
The next morning it all seemed like a bad dream. The sun was shining brightly, and Christie rose and opened the attic window. Every thing looked fresh and clean after the rain. The dull heavy feeling was gone out of the air, and the little sparrows were chirping in the eaves. It was Sunday morning, and on Sunday evening Christie was to hear the clergyman preach in the mission-room. Oh! how he wished it was seven o'clock, that he might go and find out what old Treffy wanted to know!
The poor old man seemed very restless and unhappy all that long spring day. Christie never left him, for it was only on Sunday that he could watch beside his dear old master. He could see that old Treffy had not forgotten his dream, though he did not speak of it again.
And at last the long, weary day wore away, and at six o'clock Christie washed himself and prepared to depart.
"Be sure you mind every word he says, Christie, boy," said old Treffy, earnestly.
The mission-room was only just open when little Christie arrived. A woman was inside lighting the gas and preparing the place for the congregation. Christie peeped shyly in at the door, and she caught sight of him and ordered him off.
"Isn't there going to be any preaching to-night?" said Christie, in a disappointed voice.
"Oh! you've come to the service, have you?" said the woman. "All right you can come in, only you must sit still, and you mustn't talk or make a noise."
Now, as poor Christie had no one to talk to, this was rather an unnecessary speech. However, he went in very meekly, and sat down on one of the front benches.