together.  He dropped my hand wi’ a smile at half-past six o’clock, and after comforting his wife and children a bit I turned my face hameward.  But I was in that mood that I didna care to sit i’ a crowded omnibus, and I wanted to be moving wi’ my thoughts.  The falling snow and the deserted Green seemed good to me, and I walked on thinking o’er again the deacon’s last utterances, for they were wise and good even beyond the man’s nature.  That is how I came across Robert Leslie.  I thought he was dead, but I carried him in my arms to the House o’ the Humane Society, which, you ken, isna one hundred yards from where Robert fell.  The officer there said he wasna dead, sae I brought him here and went for the physician you spoke to.  Now, Davie, it is needless for me to say mair.  You ken what I expect o’ you.  You’ll get no whiskey in this house, not a drop o’ it.  If the sick man needs anything o’ that kind, I shall gie it wi’ my ain hand; and you wont leave this house, David, until I see whether Robert is to live or die.  You must gie me your word o’ honor for that.”

“Minister, pray what is my word worth?”

“Everything it promises, David Callendar.  I would trust your word afore I’d trust a couple o’ constables, for a’ that’s come and gane.”

“Thank you, thank you, doctor!  You shall not trust, and be deceived.  I solemnly promise you to do my best for Robert, and not to leave your house until I have your permission.”

The next morning Dr. Morrison was at John Callendar’s before he sat down to breakfast.  He had the morning paper with him, and he pointed out a paragraph which ran thus:  “Robert Leslie, of the late firm of Callendar & Leslie, was found by the Rev. Dr. Morrison in an unconscious condition on the Green last night about seven o’clock.  It is supposed the young gentleman slipped and fell, and in the fall struck his head, as congestion of the brain has taken place.  He lies at Dr. Morrison’s house, and is being carefully nursed by his late partner, though there is but little hope of his recovery.”

“Minister, it wasna you surely wha concocted this lie?”

“Nobody has told a lie, John.  Don’t be overrighteous, man; there is an unreasonableness o’ virtue that savors o’ pride.  I really thought Robert had had an accident, until you told me the truth o’ the matter.  The people at the Humane Society did the same; sae did Dr. Fleming.  I suppose some reporter got the information from one o’ the latter sources.  But if Robert gets well, we may let it stand; and if he doesna get well, I shall seek counsel o’ God before I take a step farther.  In the meantime David is doing his first duty in nursing him; and David will stay in my house till I see whether it be a case o’ murder or not.”