'The Stotts are in trouble, and they ask for my presence,
Good-afternoon; I'm going.'

'Howd on a bit,' said Amos, still holding the minister by the
lapel of his coat. 'Naa listen to me. If I were yo' I wouldn't go.
Th' lass hes made her bed; let her lie on't. Durnd yo' risk yor
repetation by makkin' it yasier, or by takkin' ony o' th' thorns
aat o' her pillow. Rehoboth Church is praad o' her sheep; and it
keeps th' black uns aatside th' fold, and yo'll nobbud ged blacked
yorsel if yo' meddle wi' 'em. But young colts 'll goa their own
gait, so pleeas yorsel.'

At first Mr. Penrose was inclined to think twice over the old
Pharisee's advice; but, looking round, he saw Mrs. Stott's sad
face in her cottage doorway, and her look determined his advance.
In a moment reputation and propriety were forgotten in what he
felt were the claims of a mother's heart and the sufferings of an
erring soul.

'Ay, Mr. Penrose, I'm some fain to see yo',' cried the poor woman,
as the minister walked up the garden-path. 'Amanda's baan fast,
and hoo sez 'at it's all dark.' And then, seizing Mr. Penrose's
hand, she cried: 'Yo' durnd think hoo's damned, dun yo'?'

For years the sound of that mother's voice as she uttered those
words haunted Mr. Penrose. He heard it in the stillness of the
night, and in the quiet of his study; it came floating on the
winds as he walked the fields and moors; and would sound in
mockery as he, from time to time, declared a Father's love from
the old pulpit at Rehoboth. What cruel creed was this, prompting a