the fall evenings were beginning to draw in early; everybody was glad of the fire in the grate and the closed curtains.  Dr Drummond had come about five, and the inquiries and comments upon family matters that the occasion made incumbent had been briskly exchanged, with just the word that marked the pastoral visit and the practical interest that relieved it.  And he had thought, on the whole, that he might manage to stay to tea, at which Mrs Murchison’s eyes twinkled as she said affectionately—­

“Now, Doctor, you know we could never let you off.”

Then Abby had arrived and her husband, and finally Mr and Mrs Williams, just a trifle late for etiquette, but well knowing that it mustn’t be enough to spoil the biscuits.  Dr Drummond in the place of honour, had asked the blessing, and that brief reminder of the semiofficial character of the occasion having been delivered, was in the best of humours.  The Murchisons were not far wrong in the happy divination that he liked coming to their house.  Its atmosphere appealed to him; he expanded in its humour, its irregularity, its sense of temperament.  They were doubtful allurements, from the point of view of a minister of the Gospel, but it would not occur to Dr Drummond to analyse them.  So far as he was aware, John Murchison was just a decent, prosperous, Christian man, on whose word and will you might depend, and Mrs Murchison a stirring, independent little woman, who could be very good company when she felt inclined.  As to their sons and daughters, in so far as they were a credit, he was as proud of them as their parents could possibly be, regarding himself as in a much higher degree responsible for the formation of their characters and the promise of their talents.  And indeed, since every one of them had “sat under” Dr Drummond from the day he or she was capable of sitting under anybody, Mr and Mrs Murchison would have been the last to dispute this.  It was not one of those houses where a pastor could always be sure of leaving some spiritual benefit behind; but then he came away himself with a pleasant sense of nervous stimulus which was apt to take his mind off the matter.  It is not given to all of us to receive or to extend the communion of the saints; Mr and Mrs Murchison were indubitably of the elect, but he was singularly close-mouthed about it, and she had an extraordinary way of seeing the humorous side—­altogether it was paralysing, and the conversation would wonderfully soon slip round to some robust secular subject, public or domestic.  I have mentioned Dr Drummond’s long upper lip; all sorts of racial virtues resided there, but his mouth was also wide and much frequented by a critical, humorous, philosophical smile which revealed a view of life at once kindly and trenchant.  His shrewd grey eyes were encased in wrinkles, and when he laughed his hearty laugh they almost disappeared in a merry line.  He had a fund of Scotch stories, and one or two he was very fond of, at the expense of the