“Then,” said Ranald, firmly, “I owe it all to yourself, for it is you that set me on this way.”
“Listen to them admiring each other! It is quite shameless,” said Harry.
Then they began talking about Glengarry, of the old familiar places, of the woods and the fields, of the boys and girls now growing into men and women, and of the old people, some of whom were passed away. Before long they were talking of the church and all the varied interests centering in it, but soon they went back to the theme that Glengarry people everywhere are never long together without discussing—the great revival. Harry had heard a good deal about it before, but to Kate and her mother the story was mostly new, and they listened with eager interest as Mrs. Murray and Ranald recalled those great days. With eyes shining, and in tones of humble, grateful wonder they reminded each other of the various incidents, the terrors, the struggles, the joyful surprises, the mysterious powers with which they were so familiar during those eighteen months. Then Mrs. Murray told of the permanent results; how over three counties the influence of the movement was still felt, and how whole congregations had been built up under its wonderful power.
“And did you hear,” she said to Ranald, “that Donald Stewart was ordained last May?”
“No,” replied Ranald; “that makes seven, doesn't it?”
“Seven what?” said Kate.
“Seven men preaching the Gospel to-day out of our own congregation,” replied Mrs. Murray.
“But, auntie,” cried Harry, “I have always thought that all that must have been awfully hard work.”
“It was,” said Ranald, emphatically; and he went on to sketch Mrs. Murray's round of duties in her various classes and meetings connected with the congregation.
“Besides what she has to do in the manse!” exclaimed Harry; “but it's a mere trifle, of course, to look after her troop of boys.”