308 The Little Minister

that there’s no necessity for praying for rain
the nicht? You'll be content, will ye, if Mr.
Dishart just drops in to the kirk some day,
accidental-like, and offers up a bit prayer?”

“As for the rain,” Spens said, triumphantly,
“ T wouldna wonder though it’s here afore the
minister. You canna deny, Peter Tosh, that
there’s been a smell o’ rain in the air this twa
hours back.”

“ John,” Peter said, agitatedly, “ dinna speak
so confidently. I’ve kent it,” he whispered,
“since the day turned; but it wants to tak us
by surprise, lad, and so I’m no letting on.”

“See that you dinna make an idol o’ the rain,”
thundered Whamond. “Your thochts is no wi’
Him, but wi’ the clouds; and whaur your thochts
are, there will your prayers stick also.”

“If you saw my lambs,” Tosh began; and
then, ashamed of himself, said, looking upward,
“ He holds the rain in the hollow of His hand.”

“ And He’s closing His neive ticht on’t again,”
said the precentor, solemnly. ‘“ Hearken to the
wind rising !””

“God help me!” cried Tosh, wringing his
hands. “Is it fair, think you,” he said, passion-
ately addressing the sky, “to show your wrath
wi’ Mr. Dishart by ruining my neeps? ”

“ You were richt, Tammas Whamond,” Spens
said, growing hard as he listened to the wind,
“the sanctuary o’ the Lord has been profaned
this nicht by him wha should be the chief pillar
o’ the building.”

They were lowering brows that greeted Hen-
dry when he returned to say that Mr. Dishart