“Yes, and your uncle, too,” said Mrs. Murray, shaking her head at her husband. “You see, Maimie, we live in 'those places'; and after all, they are as safe as any. We are in good keeping.”
“And was Hughie out all night with those two boys in those woods, auntie?”
“Oh, there was no danger. The wolves will not come near a fire, and the boys have their dogs and guns,” said Mrs. Murray; “besides, Ranald is to be trusted.”
“Trusted?” said the minister; “indeed, I would not trust him too far. He is just wild enough, like his father before him.”
“Oh, papa, you don't know Ranald,” said his wife, warmly; “nor his father either, for that matter. I never did till this last week. They have kept aloof from everything, and really—”
“And whose fault is that?” interrupted the minister. “Why should they keep aloof from the means of grace? They are a godless lot, that's what they are.” The minister's indignation was rising.
“But, my dear,” persisted Mrs. Murray, “I believe if they had a chance—”
“Chance!” exclaimed the minister; “what more chance do they want? Have they not all that other people have? Macdonald Dubh is rarely seen at the services on the Lord's day, and as for Ranald, he comes and goes at his own sweet will.”
“Let us hope,” said his wife, gently, “they will improve. I believe Ranald would come to Bible class were he not so shy.”
“Shy!” laughed the minister, scornfully; “he is not too shy to stand up on the table before a hundred men after a logging and dance the Highland fling, and beautifully he does it, too,” he added.