"Expound yon," came as a sudden interruption.
Gordon looked up from the book. "What's that, father? Do what?"
"Expound the Word," his father repeated solemnly; "the minister should aye expound the passage. Tell the folk wha the prophet means."
Gordon turned a puzzled look on the page.
"Yon aboot the servant," his father explained; "the Suffering Servant, ye ken—Him wha's face was marred wi' cruel men. Ye ken wha the prophet's referrin' to, my son?"
Gordon understood. "I see what you mean," he answered slowly; "but I don't know that I'm quite clear about that myself. The best scholarship seems in doubt as to whether——"
But the old man was all on fire now. "I dinna' ken naethin' aboot yir scholars," he broke in vehemently, "an' I dinna' care. But yon bit refers to the Man o' Sorrows—ye ken that fine, div ye no'?—it's Christ the prophet means—an' Him sufferin' for sin. Gordon, expound the Word," and there was a stern grandeur about the pose and the voice of this champion of the truth that would have done credit to the ancient prophet himself.
"I cannot," said Gordon, his lips quite white; "not as you understand it, father—it isn't clear to me."
"Then close the Buik," said the old man sternly; "if it's no' the savour of life unto life, it'll be the savour o' death unto death."
And Gordon did. "You'll lead us in prayer, father," he said, his voice so low we could hardly hear.