be done because it hurts. There are powers to be born, creations to
be perfected, sinners to be redeemed, through the ministry of pain,
that could be born, perfected, redeemed, in no other way. But
Christina was neither wise nor unwise after such fashion. She was
annoyed at finding the laird not easily to be brought to her feet,
and Mercy already advanced to his good graces. She was not jealous
of Mercy, for was she not beautiful and Mercy plain? but Mercy had
by her PLUCK secured an advantage, and the handsome ploughman looked
at her admiringly! Partly therefore because she was not pleased with
him, partly that she thought a little outcry would be telling,--

"Oh, you wicked man!" she cried, "you are hurting the poor brutes!"

"No more than is necessary," he answered.

"You are cruel!"

"Good morning, ladies."

He just managed to take off his bonnet, for the four-legged
explosions at the end of his plough were pulling madly. He slackened
his reins, and away it went, like a sharp knife through a Dutch
cheese.

"You've made him quite cross!" said Mercy.

"What a brute of a man!" said Christina.

She never restrained herself from teasing cat or puppy for her
amusement--did not even mind hurting it a little. Those capable of