Whats Mines Mine, vol 2 | Page 4

in her hand. He walked as fast as he could to get up with her,
hut could not; he called after her, but she did not seem to hear.

"When first he set out, he knew every step of the ground, but by and by
he ceased to know it. The moor stretched out endlessly, and the woman
walked on and on. Without a thought of turning back, he followed. At
length he saw a gate, seemingly in the side of a hill. The woman
knocked, and by the time it opened, he was near enough to hear what
passed. It was a grave and stately, but very happy-looking man that
opened it, and he knew at once it was St. Peter. When he saw the
woman, he stooped and kissed her. The same moment a light shone
from her, and the old man thought her candle was lighted at last; but
presently he saw it was her head that gave out the shining. And he
heard her say, 'I pray you, St. Peter, remember the rich tenant of
Balmacoy; he gave me shelter one whole night, and would have let me
light my candle but I could not.' St. Peter answered, 'His fire was not
fire enough to light your candle, and the bed he gave you was of short
straw!' 'True, St. Peter,' said the woman, 'but he gave me some supper,
and it is hard for a rich man to be generous! You may say the supper
was not very good, but at least it was more than a cup of cold water!'
'Yes, verily!' answered the saint, 'but he did not give it you because you
loved God, or because you were in need of it, but because he wanted to
hear your news.' Then the woman was sad, for she could not think of
anything more to say for the poor old rich man. And St. Peter saw that
she was sad, and said, 'But if he die to-night, he shall have a place
inside the gate, because you pray for him. He shall lie there!' And he
pointed to just such a bed of short crumpled straw as she had lain upon
in his house. But she said, 'St. Peter, you ought to be ashamed of
yourself! Is that the kind of welcome to give a poor new-dead man?
Where then would he have lain if I had not prayed for him?' 'In the
dog-kennel outside there,' answered St. Peter. 'Oh, then, please, let me
go back and warn him what comes of loving money!' she pleaded. 'That
is not necessary,' he replied; 'the man is hearing every word you and I
are this moment saying to each other.' 'I am so glad!' rejoined the
woman; 'it will make him repent.' 'He will not be a straw the better for
it!' answered the saint. 'He thinks now that he will do differently, and
perhaps when he wakes will think so still; but in a day or two he will
mock at it as a foolish dream. To gather money will seem to him
common sense, and to lay up treasure in heaven nonsense. A bird in the
hand will be to him worth ten in the heavenly bush. And the end will be

that he will not get the straw inside the gate, and there will be many
worse places than the dog-kennel too good for him!' With that he woke.
"'What an odd dream!' he said to himself. 'I had better mind what I am
about!' So he was better that day, eating and drinking more freely, and
giving more to his people. But the rest of the week he was worse than
ever, trying to save what he had that day spent, and so he went on
growing worse. When he found himself dying, the terror of his dream
came upon him, and he told all to the priest. But the priest could not
comfort him."
By the time the story was over, to which Mercy had listened without a
word, they were alone in the great starry night, on the side of a hill,
with the snow high above them, and the heavens above the snow, and
the stars above the heavens, and God above and below everything.
Only Ian felt his presence. Mercy had not missed him yet.
She did not see much in the tale: how could she? It was very odd, she
thought, but not very interesting. She had expected a tale of clan-feud,
or a love-story! Yet the seriousness of her companion in its narration
had made some impression upon her.
"They told me you were an officer," she said, "but I see you are a
clergyman! Do you tell stories like that from the pulpit?"
"I am a