Without waiting for a reply, Sarah busied herself in clearing away the few articles, and this done, said, "Must I make the door, or will you."
Adam said he would "fasten up," and the young woman bade him "good night," and betook herself to the room occupied by little Maggie and the two youngest children, the elder boys sharing their father's. But the mind of the latter was too much occupied to allow of immediate sleep, so he stayed downstairs for a while to think things over.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
THE LIGHT BEGINS TO SHINE ON ADAM.
LEFT alone with his own thoughts, Adam Livesey took up Sarah's Bible, and began to turn over its leaves. He was a good reader, in spite of little practice and the fact that money was too scarce to be spent on books, except those which must be bought for school use.
Still these interested Adam, and he was always ready to hear the elder children repeat the lessons which had to be learned at home. But neither he nor they ever thought of opening the one large Bible. Indeed, it was deemed a sort of parlour ornament, and lay, year in year out, on a little table under the window. Moreover, it served as a stand for an inlaid tea-caddy, which had belonged to Adam's mother in her best days.
The large Bible would have been brought out to-night if Sarah's had not been left close at hand.
Adam's soul was fairly hungering for spiritual food, and its yearnings could not be silenced.
The preacher's words, the talk of the young woman, to whom religion seemed such a real thing that it entered into her daily life and work, filled the man's thoughts.
Mr. Kennedy might have read his very heart, and answered his difficulties in his address. Had he not all his life deemed himself "of no account," even in the eyes of men? And yet, if that preacher had told the truth, he, poor Adam Livesey, was an object of interest and of love to man's Maker, the God of heaven and earth.