“I say must we always tell our sins—I mean to people?”
The old man thought a moment. “It is not always good to be talking about our sins to people. That is for God to hear. But we must be ready to make right what is wrong.”
“Yes, yes,” said Hughie, eagerly, “of course one would be glad to do that.”
The old man gave him one keen glance, and began hoeing again.
“Ye'd better be asking ye're mother about that. She will know.”
“No, no,” said Hughie, “I can't.”
The old man paused in his work, looked at the boy for a moment or two, and then went on working again.
“Speak to my woman,” he said, after a few strokes of his hoe. “She's a wonderful wise woman.” And Hughie wished that he dared.
During the days of the planting they became great friends, and to their mutual good. The mother's keen eyes noted the change both in Hughie and in her husband, and was glad for it. It was she that suggested to Billy Jack that he needed help in the back pasture with the stones. Billy Jack, quick to take her meaning, eagerly insisted that help he must have, indeed he could not get on with the plowing unless the stones were taken off. And so it came that Hughie and the old man, with old Fly hitched up in the stone-boat, spent two happy and not unprofitable days in the back pasture. Gravely they discussed the high themes of God's sovereignty and man's freedom, with all their practical issues upon conduct and destiny. Only once, and that very shyly, did the old man bring round the talk to the subject of their first conversation that meant so much to them both.
“The Lord will not be wanting to shame us beyond what is necessary,” he said. “There are certain sins which he will bring to light, but there are those that, in his mercy, he permits us to hide; provided always,” he added, with emphasis, “we are done with them.”