Sam stared off into the distance. He was a man of few words. What was on his mind?
“Ye say she kens her Catechism. But is Christ the treasure of her heart?”
John blinked. He’d never heard his brother talk quite like this. He shrugged and frowned, studying the clods at his feet.
His brother frowned, as if seeking the right words. “Ye have heard about George Whitefield’s visits here.”
“Oh, aye. I saw the new meetinghouse too.”
“Ye should have been there and heard him preach. I still think on it. In some ways, it was ordinary. Straight gospel preaching. Much like Tennent’s. But the crowds …” His brother’s voice cracked with feeling.
John forgot the heat. He’d not heard his taciturn brother so moved.