‘Ay,’ said Lachlan; ‘it is often that has been read in my hearing, but I am afraid it will not be for me whatever,’ and he swayed himself slightly as he spoke, and his voice was full of pain.
‘The minister said I might come,’ said old Nelson, earnestly and hopefully.
‘Ay, but you are not Lachlan Campbell, and you hef not had his privileges. My father was a godly elder in the Free Church of Scotland, and never a night or morning but we took the Books.’
‘Yes, but He said “any man,”’ persisted Nelson, putting his hand on Lachlan’s knee. But Lachlan shook his head.
‘Dat young feller,’ said Baptiste; ‘wha’s hees nem, heh?’
‘He has no name. It is just a parable,’ explained Sandy.
‘He’s got no nem? He’s just a parom’ble? Das no young feller?’ asked Baptiste anxiously; ‘das mean noting?’
Then Nelson took him in hand and explained to him the meaning, while Baptiste listened even more eagerly, ejaculating softly, ‘ah, voila! bon! by gar!’ When Nelson had finished he broke out, ‘Dat young feller, his name Baptiste, heh? and de old Fadder he’s le bon Dieu? Bon! das good story for me. How you go back? You go to de pries’?’
‘The book doesn’t say priest or any one else,’ said Nelson. ‘You go back in yourself, you see?’
‘Non; das so, sure nuff. Ah!’—as if a light broke in upon him—‘you go in your own self. You make one leetle prayer. You say, “Le bon Fadder, oh! I want come back, I so tire, so hongree, so sorree”? He, say, “Come right ‘long.” Ah! das fuss-rate. Nelson, you make one leetle prayer for Sandy and me.’