"Thank God, and go to sleep," said his father. "If Hayes were pleased
with my preaching I should greatly suspect my call to the ministry."

"But seriously, I am certainly not a great preacher, and perhaps not
a preacher at all. They say I have no 'pep,' which with some of them
appears to be the distinctive and altogether necessary characteristic of
a popular preacher."

"What said Innes?" enquired his father.

"Did you ever hear Innes say much? From his silence one would judge that
he must possess the accumulated wisdom of the ages."

"When he does talk, however, he generally says something. What was his
contribution?"

"'Ah, weel,' said the silent one, 'Ah doot he's no a Spurgeon, not yet a
Billy Sunday, but ye'll hardly be expectin' thae fowk at Wapiti for nine
hundred dollars a year.' Then, bless his old heart, he added, 'But the
bairns tak to him like ducks to water, so you'd better bide a bit.' So
they decided to 'bide a bit' till next Sunday. Dad, at first I wanted
to throw their job in their faces, only I always know that it is the old
Adam in me that feels like that, so I decided to 'bide a bit' too."

"It is a poor job, after all, my boy," said his father. "It's no
gentleman's job the way it is carried on in this country. To think of
your being at the bidding of a creature like Hayes!"

He could have said no better word. The boy's face cleared like the