“The prophet says that the plowing and sowing, the very prayers, of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord.”
“Why, now you're talkin', but look here.” Yankee lowered his tone. “Look here, you wouldn't go for to call”—here again he jerked his head toward the house—“wicked, would you? Fur if you do, why, there ain't any more conversation between you and me.”
Yankee was terribly in earnest.
“'There is none righteous, no, not one,'” quoted Peter, with the air of a man who forces himself to an unpleasant duty.
“That's so, I guess,” said Yankee, meditatively, “but it depends some on what you mean. I don't set myself up for any copy-book head-line, but as men go—men, say, just like you here—I'd put—I'd put him alongside, wouldn't you? You expect to get through yourself, I judge?”
This was turning the tables somewhat sharply upon Peter, but Yankee's keen, wide-open eyes were upon him, and his intensely earnest manner demanded an answer.
“Indeed, if it will be so, it will not be for any merit of my own, but only because of the mercy of the Lord in Christ Jesus.” Peter's tone was sincerely humble.
“Guess you're all right,” said Yankee, encouragingly; “and as for—as for—him—don't you worry about that. You may be dead sure about his case.”
But Peter only shook his head hopelessly. “You are sorely in need of instruction, Mr. Latham,” he said, sadly. “We cannot listen to our hearts in this matter. We must do honor to the justice of God, and the word is clear, 'Ye must be born again.' Nothing else avails.” Peter's tone was final.
Then Yankee drew a little nearer to him, as if settling down to work.