“No, he isn’t.”

“I knew he was very good, but couldn’t he be good and mad too?”

“No,” said Mrs. Martha; and the serious assertion had all the more effect because it stood alone, unpropped by a single reason.

“When I’ve milked the Principal’s special cow I often come here of a morning, and sometimes I see the saint walking under the trees.  I don’t mind telling you, child, for you’ve a head older than yer years, but you mustn’t speak of it again.  I’d not like folks to know.”

“I won’t tell,” whispered Winifred, eagerly.  She felt inexpressibly honoured by the confidence.  “Do you think he’ll come out now?” Awe and excited interest, not unmingled with fear, were taking possession of her.  She crouched down beside the solemn woman, and looked through at the house and all its closed windows.  The hedge was alive with birds that hopped and piped unnoticed, even the scarlet bird was forgotten.

“Mrs. Martha,” she whispered, “I heard papa say Cameron believed that our Saviour was soon coming back again, and only those people would go with Him who were watching and waiting.  Mr. Trenholme said every one was mad who thought that.”

“There’s a sight of people will tell you you’re mad if you’re only fervent.”

The child did not know precisely what “fervent” meant, but she began to doubt Trenholme’s positive knowledge on the subject.  “Do you believe the end of the world’s coming so soon?”

“Lor, child! what do I know but the world might go on a good bit after that?  I can’t tell from my Bible whether the Lord will take us who are looking for Him up to His glory for a while, or whether He’ll appoint us a time of further trial while He’s conquering the earth; but I do know it wouldn’t matter much which, after we’d heard Him speak to each of us by name and seen His face.”  The sad woman looked positively happy while she spoke.

“Oh, Mrs. Martha, are you watching like that?  But how can you all the time—­you must sleep and work, you know?”

“Yes, child; but the heart can watch; and He knows we must sleep and work; and for that reason I’m not so sure but, if we’re faithful, He might in mercy give us a word beforehand to let us know when to be expecting more particularly.  I don’t know, you know, child; I’m only saying what might be.”

“But what makes you think so, Mrs. Martha?”

Winifred was quick-witted enough to perceive something withheld.

“There’s things that it’s not right for any one to know but those as will reverence them.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” said Winifred, clasping her hands.

“As I understand it, Mr. Cameron’s had no assurance yet.”

Winifred did not ask what this meant.  She felt that she was listening to words that, if mysterious, were to be pondered in silence.

“You know the poor thing whose husband is always tipsy—­drunken Job they call him—­that you’ve seen listening to Mr. Cameron?—­and that weakly Mr. McNider, with the little boy?”