"Lois, ain't them words plain?"
"Very plain, grandma."
"Will ye mind 'em?"
"Yes, grandma; by his grace."
"Ay, ye may want it," said the old lady; "but it's safe to trust the Lord. An' I'd rather have you suffer heartbreak follerin' the Lord, than goin' t'other way. Now you may read to me, Lois. We'll have it before they come home."
"Who has read to you while I have been gone?"
"O, one and another. Madge mostly; but Madge don't care, and so she don' know how to read."
Mrs. Armadale's sight was not good; and it was the custom for one of the girls, Lois generally, to read her a verse or two morning and evening. Generally it was a small portion, talked over if they had time, and if not, then thought over by the old lady all the remainder of the day or evening, as the case might be. For she was like the man of whom it is written—"His delight is in the law of the Lord, and in his law doth he meditate day and night."
"What shall I read, grandma?"
"You can't go wrong."