"God be merciful to me! you will not be saying such a word as that."
"Fear not," replied the minister, "he will be given to you for a jewel in your crown."
McFarquhar was deeply impressed.
"How can this thing be?" he inquired in despair.
"You are his friend!" The minister's voice rose and fell in solemn rhythm. "You are strong; he is weak. You will need to put away from you all that causeth your brother to offend, and so you will lead him into the light."
The minister's face was that of a man seeing visions and McFarquhar, deeply moved, bowed his head and listened in silence. After a time he said, hesitatingly:
"And Ould Michael has his weakness and he will be drinking Paddy Dougan's bad whisky; but if he would only keep to the Company's good whisky——"
"Man," interrupted the minister, simply, "don't you know it is the good whisky that kills, for it is the good whisky that makes men love it."
McFarquhar gazed at him in amazement.
"The good whisky!"