on his knees, praying,’ replied the young leddy, soothingly.  ’That’s what papa always does, when he’s dressed like that, before he kisses me good-night, but he takes off his boots and things first,’ and she sobbed again, for fear Perrowne was coming to kiss them all, put out the candles, and go to bed.  If Miss Du Plessis had not been a sober-minded lass, she would have laughed out in the middle of the choir.  As it was, she had to hand Marjorie over to a neighbour in a back seat, before the bit lassie would be comforted.”

“Ah! did you ever now? the little innocent!”

“It’s not that improbable that there’ll be a marriage in the church before long.  Perrowne’s just clean daft and infatuated with his occasional soprano.  He’s sent her the ‘Mirror of Devotion’ and the ‘Soul’s Questioner,’ and a lot of nicely bound trash, and walks home with her whenever he has the chance, to the scandal and rage of all his farmers’ daughters.  It’s very injudeecious o’ Perrowne, and has dreeven two of his best families to the Kirk.  Not that she’s no a braw looking lass, stately and deegnified, but she has na the winsomeness of Miss Marjorie.”

“Is that your quarter, Mr. Errol?”

“Hech, sirs, I’m an old bachelor that’ll never see five and forty again; but, as we say in Scotch or the vernacular Doric, ’an auld carle micht dae waur.’  There’s not a more sensible, modest, blithesome, bonnie lassie in all the land.  It’s a thousand peeties some young, handsome, well to do steady, God-fearing man has na asked at her to be ’the light o’ his ain fireside.’  Gin I were as young as you, Mr. Coristine, I would na think twice about it.”

“Avaunt, tempter!” cried the lawyer, “such a subject as matrimony is strictly tabooed between me and my friend.”

“I’ll be your friend, I hope, but I cannot afford to taboo marriages.  Not to speak of the fees, they’re the life of a well-ordered, healthy congregation.”

A neat turn-out, similar to that of Mrs. Thomas, came rattling along the road.  “That’s John Carruthers’ team,” remarked the minister, and such it turned out to be.

“Maister Errol,” said its only occupant, a strong and honest-faced man with a full brown beard, “yon’s a fine hanky panky trick to play wi’ your ain elder an’ session clerk.”

“Deed John,” returned the minister, relapsing into the vernacular; “I didna ken ye were i’ the toon ava, but ’oor bit dander has gien us the opportunity o’ becomin’ acquent wi’ twa rale dacent lads.”  Then, turning to the lawyer, “excuse our familiar talk, Mr. Coristine, and let me introduce Squire Carruthers, of Flanders.”  The two men exchanged salutations, and Perrowne, having turned back with Wilkinson, the same ceremony was gone through with the latter.  They were then all courteously invited to get into the waggon.  Errol and Perrowne sprang in with an air of old proprietorship, but the two pedestrians respectfully declined, as they were especially anxious to explore the mountain beauties of this part of the country on foot and at their leisure.