"And why for no?" said Willie very quick.

me nay?"

"Is she to say

Then he got awful red, for he had telled Kirsty all.

"I doubt she'll no be saying you nay, nor ony ither man," Kirsty said. "She'll be unco fain of a lad, I'm thinking."

"Hoots, wumman!"

David took her up short, like the minister stamping his foot at the notable parts of his discourse.

"Gae you

ben the hoose, Wullie, and Jean will tell you the haill maitter better then Kirsty wha kens naught aboot it." David's Sabbath dinner had surely made a man of him; but, however, Kirsty, feeling the edge of truth in what he said, turned on him with her tongue, and Willie left them to it and went ben the house to Jean.

The sight of the baby on her knee made him forget his errand ; but Jean cried him in, and soon he knew how she had promised to rear Nancy's bairn.

There's nothing can put a man second in a woman's heart so easy as a baby. The tender wee thing pulls at her love stronger than a man has power for; and it angered Willie to see that Jean, who before this had never had an eye for aught but himself, couldna be fashed listening to him for noticing the bairn.

"What was't you were saying, Willie?" she would ask absentlike, and, not minding the answer, go on nodding and smiling down at the child on her knee. And when he was fain to tell her of his plans:

"See how the wee handie failds ower my finger," said she, caring nothing at all about his arrangings.

He couldna get her to listen to him for the child; and his heart got hotter and hotter against it. But he kept his rage in, and went on with his story, how he would soon be away to Australia, and would she wed at once and go over the sea with him.

And then she did look up, with a great light shining on her face that it made him bashful to see.

"Surely, Willie," she said earnest-like, as though she would never have thought of doing aught else.

He would have taken her hand then, but the baby had fallen asleep holding her finger, and she wouldna let him disturb it.

"Jean, put that bairn down," he cried. "I need you, not the bairn; and I canna have even a kiss for you holding it. I doubt I'm jealous, lassie, for I canna bear to see you giving more thought to the child than to me."

'No, no; you mustna talk that gait, Willie," she said smiling. I think you should love wee Nannie too, for by-and-bye she will belong to us baith."

Jean never told what he said to her after that, but it must have been sair on her, for he was angered. And when Kirsty came ben the room, an hour later, he had gone, and Jean was standing with a white face, and her arms locked about the bairn. She had seemed but a lassie before, but Kirsty sat down sudden in a tremble when she saw the change in her.

She was a woman all at once, and her face was still and cold,

like the face of the sea before the storm breaks through it. At first Kirsty daredna ask her how she had settled with her lad, but she was bent on knowing. So she moved forward and felt the stuff of the bairn's gown-it was fine muslins and fit for a child of the manse-saying:

"Ay, lassie, you'll no be carin' to spend sae muckle on Nancy's bairn when you hae your ain to cleed. Wullie is a close lad; he'll maybe grudge his siller efter the merriage."

Then Jean turned to her with her mouth all quivering, and said she, "You mustna call Willie's name to me again, Kirsty. We are no to be married, and, if you please, I'd like very well to be my lane just now."

Kirsty is not one that you can quiet with a word, her tongue being like a bunch of nettles; but it made her dumb to see the lassie standing there so white and awful. She had her arms round the child as though she would never let her go, and Kirsty saw as clear as Lunan water what had happened. She held her tongue till she got to the bench where David sat smoking his Sabbath pipe, although she was like to burst with pride at being the first to know Jean had quarrelled with her lad. But as soon as she came up to David she began. And for many days after there was never a body in Skyrle could get a word out of David McNaughten.

CHAPTER III.-TROUBLE AT THE MANSE.

The minister was well thought of in Skyrle, and the town ministers came a deal about the manse, and cracked one with the other of his fine spirit and nobility. He had a hearty, cheery way, and, though it was a burial, you felt the gladsomer to see him come ben the room with his hat off and the pity deep in his eyes. He was a fine preacher too, and there was never a diet of worship but someone would stop and say to David, "Man! what a grand sermon we hae gotten the day!"

And when David made no answer, likely as not you would hear the parrot in the manse screaming and using awful language at the little doggie. And many wondered at a good man like the minister keeping the ill-spoken bird.

When Mr. Grahame had been eighteen months in Skyrle he made William Rafe circuit steward, so giving offence to Kirsty, who would have had David put into the office, and no a young lad like William.

"You canna pick muckle meat oot of a half-grown buckie," said she; and she went near angering Miss Isobel with her tongue grating on Rafe's name the long day through.

It wasna likely the lassie thought William was ower young for the office when he was ten years elder than herself, and quite a man with his moustache well grown, and his father's mill and a hundred hands under him. And Kirsty had no call to think the minister didna ken what he was doing. For all his kindness, he

was a stern man and wouldna be turned from doing his duty by any matter whatever. And by this time all Skyrle knew him for a man that did the right, laying bare his life to God and the world, and making no profession he couldna act up to.

But Providence surely had a hand in making William Rafe steward the very year that Mr. Grahame was taken ill; for I canna tell what the manse folk would have done if Jamie Murphy -who had as much kindliness in him as a dried haddie-had been in office.

It was Communion Sabbath in Skyrle; and when the minister rose to his sermon that day the members ceased counting the new communicants to marvel at his face. It was white and shining with a kind of inward light that made a hush in the church, for it told that he had been with God. None who saw him then will ever forget it, nor the beautiful look of him, nor the solemn, loving words that touched the hearts of the hardest. And when he stood by the table, all held their breath, for it was as if he knew he was ministering to his people that day for the last time. And the very next Sabbath as he was reading the hymn he was taken as for death.

William Rafe, looking at Miss Isobel, saw her face change while the minister was giving out:

Then Miss Isobel was out of the pew and round to the vestry, for the hand of the Lord had touched him.

They carried him into the manse, and Geordie Mackay gave out a hymn and read a psalm; and then William Rafe came back with a white face, and said the doctor was at the manse, and he had no hope of the minister's life.

When the kirk was out you could tell what had happened by the people going on tip-toe on the gravel under the manse windows, and not talking till they were well away from the house.

"The blinds are no drawn," said Elspeth, softly, peeping back over her shoulder.

"Toots! he's no awa' yet," said Geordie. "Ay, he was a grand man. Skyrle will no see his like again."

"I kenned fine his time had come," said Widdy Rafe. 'When he made my Wullie steward he had putten the tap-stane to his work."

"The tap-stane was putten at the Communion lest Sabbath," said Geordie. "Saw you ever such a light on any face?"

"It was wonderfu',' said Elspeth, greeting. "And aye he had a sweetie in his poke for my Eppie."

"He was vera weel likit," said David, "and threw a hail shilling in the plate Sabbath past. Ay, he maun hae kenned it was his lest."

"Eh, but the bairns wull miss him," sobbed Elspeth.

"And wha wull the Conference be sending for Sabbath first?” askit Geordie.

Likely the President himsel' for the funeral sermon," said the Widdy. "Are the mournings for the kirk ready, David?"

"Ay! they're aye ready. Happen the burial wull be Saturday first. I could hae wished it on the Friday," said David, thinking of the cleaning of the kirk.

"It wasna for naethin' my Wullie led him oot by the graves the first Sabbath he spent i' Skyrle. Ay, and the minister said to him, "A pleasant spot; a man may sleep sweetly here." Ay, he did that," Widdy Rafe said.

"I'm thinking o' the lassie," said Elspeth, still greeting. puir lambie! How is she bearing, do you ken, David?"

"The

"Nane sae ill. She had a haun o' his hand, and wadna gang fra the room for a' the doctor."

"The puir lambie! And she has na kin ava, and too younglike for a man of her ain."

Widdy Rafe put up her chin, and hastened on.

It seemed as gin all in the town but Miss Isobel thought the minister was to die; but she would hear no word of it; and when the Free Kirk minister called at the manse and put up a prayer for the bereaved orphan, she stoppit her ears and went out by till he had concluded.

William Rafe found her greeting afterwards; and sent Elspeth to hearten her a bittie.

But when Elspeth won in and saw the minister, and the doggie lying beside the bed, she just turned and cast her arms round Miss Isobel.

"Oh, my puir dearie!" she ken fine how it is wi' him.

cried. "Oh, my puir dearie! I He'll sune be awa." He's taen for

the deid. Oh, my puir wee lambie!"

But Miss Isobel loosed her arms, and put Elspeth outside the door, an awful look on her young face.

And all night long she and the doggie were their lane beside the minister.

And it was so for many a day, Kirsty sitting greeting with her apron over her head, and the poultices burning on the kitchenrange; while the lassie shed never a tear, but did everything for the minister with her own hands.

And seeing her strong and brave and cheery, William came to understand that she was a woman, self forgetful and ready for whatever was wanted of her. He was a great comfort at the manse, was William, being tender as a woman at nursing; and oft he sat with the minister while the lassie rested.

And so she grew to lean on him, and may be to love him as well; but that we didna ken for many a long day.

And it was beautiful as the days went by to see how patient and bright the minister was; though his sickness was awful sore upon him, and he hadna an hour's ease from pain.

He had preached many a grand sermon in the kirk; but the finest of all was this he preached on his sick bed, and it was heard by ilka body in Skyrle. Ay, his voice reached to every house; and all kenned how he lay smiling, and waiting God's will without a murmur while his poor body was in a flaming torment. William Rafe knew then what a holy life had wrought for the minister; and Geordie Mackay couldna speak enough of the human nature in him when he heard how from his pillows he studied the rooks in the manse garden, and got to know each one, and his mate, and the nest, and all.

And every morning the canary came up to sing for him! But Miss Isobel wouldna have the poll-parrot in the room, the bird singing psalms that were like to make her greet; though the minister said it was better than the bad language it used on Sabbath.

And many a bonnie tale he telled the doctors about his cheery window, and the birds that were a treat to him, till they forgot that he was a minister and a dying man, and cracked with him, making jokes that were surely not seemly for a manse sick-room. But the young doctor, who, not being a Methodist, kenned but little of true religion, was sure that if aught could have converted him it would have been the minister's beautiful spirit through his sickness. So the time went on, and Miss Isobel got whiter every day and the minister weaker. And, though he was prayed for every Sabbath, there was a feeling in the kirk it was no use, a miracle being wanted to restore him again.

And one night William wouldna leave the lassie her lane, and they sat beside the minister; the doggie at the foot of the bed not closing his eyes, but watching with them, as gin he kenned what was coming.

And suddenly the little creature rose trembling and quaking and growling, seeing what none else could see.

Miss Isobel started to quiet him; but when she saw the look on her father's face she turned, all in a tremble and dumb, to William. He had seen the minister's changed face, and he just put out his arms to her.

Lassie, although he's away, there's one here that loves you." Syne he caught her to his heart, and there she sobbed out her

sorrow.

Then Skye began to bark; and, looking up, William saw the dog wagging his tail, and the minister's hand feeling out to him. "Lassie! he's no deid! He's to live!" he cried, joyful-like, and Miss Isobel tore herself from him with a sharp cry, seeing the moving hand.

But what a lassie she was!

She turned and gave William a stinging box on the ear, and flung herself, laughing and crying, on her knees by the bed.