"Because--jist because," said Mary, looking up to his face, "ye're faither."
"Weel dune, Mary!" continued the Sergeant. "Noo tell me what's the beginning o' the Lord's Prayer?"
"Our Faither which art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name. Thy----"
"That'll do, Mary," interrupted Adam. "But can ye tell me noo wha's yer Faither as weel as me?"
After a pause, Mary said, as if she had made a discovery, "Our Faither in heaven!"
"That's a clever woman! Faither! that's God's Name. And noo that ye ken his Name, ye maun trust Him faur mair than me: for He lo'es ye mair than I can do, and is aye wi' ye; and never will forsake ye, and can aye help ye; and He has said that when faither and mither forsake you, he will tak' ye up. That will He, my lassie!"
"But," said Mary, "my mither and faither, they tell me, dee'd wi' fever, but didna forsake me."
"That's true; but I mean, my bairn," said Adam, "that ye can never be an orphan lassie wi' God as yer Faither."
"But," said Mary, "for a' that, ye maun aye be my faither as weel. Oh! dinna sen' me back to Mrs. Craigie."
"Dinna fear, Mary," replied Adam; "but maybe I maun hae to leave you. God may tak' me awa', and tak' yer mither there awa' too; and then when ye're alane in the world, ye maun trust God."