“Marjorie,” answered a beard-muffled voice, “your single word’s worth more than all in that old duffer’s poems,” which the lady took as an indication that her patient was improving.

“They are all depending on us to fix the day, Eugene; when will you be strong enough?”

“Any time, Marjorie; what’s to-day?”

“Saturday, you foolish man, don’t you smell the preparations for Sunday?”

“And the New York steamer sails on Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if we are all married next Wednesday, we shall have time to get to New York easily on Saturday morning.”

“Then I will get uncle to arrange with papa Errol, and to summon the Captain and auntie and Sylvanus.”

“Oh yes, and Bigglethorpe and Bangs, and old Mrs. Hill.  I would like to have Ben here, too, if you wouldn’t mind, Marjorie.”

“We shall have everybody, and leave here on Thursday morning, to get you well on the sea.”

Mr. Terry came to ask if Mr. Coristine didn’t think the least draw of a pipe would do him good.  The invalid thought it would, and, while the veteran went upstairs to fetch the lawyer’s long-unused briar, Miss Carmichael left him, ostensibly offended that he preferred a pipe to her society, yet inwardly glad that he was strong enough to relish tobacco again.  Mr. Douglas joined the smokers, and they had a very jolly time.  “What will you do, Mr. Terry, when we are all gone!” asked the Edinburgh lawyer.  “It ’ull be gone too Oi will mysilf by that toime,” replied the veteran.

“I mean, when we are on the Atlantic.”

“Plaze God, Oi’ll be an the Atlantic mysilf.”

“What, are you coming with us?”

“Av coorse!  D’ye think the departmint cud ha done so long wit’out me iv Oi hadn’t shint in my risignaation?”

“Then you are really going across for a holiday?”

“Oi’m goin’ to lit Honoria git a shmill av the Oirish cloimate, an’ a peep at the ould shod, fwhere her anshisters is slapin’ it’s many a long year.”

“What a glorious time we’re going to have!”

“Troth for you, sor, an’ we’ll sit this bhoy on his pins agin.”

Many letters were despatched that afternoon, and Timotheus was kept busy, inviting parties whom the post was slow in reaching.  On Sunday, there being no service at St. Cuthbert’s in the Fields, the Kirk was crowded, and Mr. Errol announced a service of special interest on Wednesday morning at 11 o’clock, when his co-presbyter, the Rev. Dr. MacPhun, would officiate.  His own text was “It is not good that the man should be alone,” and towards the close of the service he stated that the Presbytery had given him leave of absence for three months, which he intended to spend in Britain, during which time his people would have an opportunity of hearing many profitable preachers, under Dr. MacPhun’s moderatorship pro tem.  Monday was a day of trunk packing and other preparations, connected with all sorts of