It was nearly noon when the minister left him and drove
home through the sun-flooded grain fields, with a glorified
look on his face as one who had seen the heavens opened.
Just before he turned into the valley of the Souris, he
stopped his horse, and looked back over the miles and
miles of rippling gold. The clickety-click-click of many
binders came to his ears. Oh what a day it was! all
sunshine and blue sky! Below him the river glinted through
the trees, and the railway track shimmered like a silver
ribbon, and as he drove into the winding valley, the
Reverend Hugh Grantley sang, despite his Cameronian blood,
sang like a Methodist:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
CHAPTER XXV
CUPID'S EMISSARY
Mrs. McGuire did not look like Cupid's earthly
representative as she sat in her chintz-covered
rocking-chair and bitterly complained of the weather.
The weather was damp and cloudy, and Mrs. McGuire said
her "jints were jumpin'."
The little Watsons were behaving so well that even with
her rheumatism to help her vision she could find no fault
with them, "just now"; but she reckoned the mischief "was
hatchin'."
A change was taking place in Mrs. McGuire, although she
was unconscious of it; Mary Barner, who was a frequent
and welcome visitor, was having an influence even on the
flinty heart of the relict of the late McGuire.
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