must be
patient. He managed to guide the conversation into smoother channels,
and by the time they reached the church the danger of an outburst had
been once more averted.

Mr. Egerton taught the Bible class in a most kindly and pleasant manner
considering the ungracious way the superintendent requested his
services. But Jessie Hamilton sat in one corner of it, her sweet face
half hidden beneath her wide drooping hat, and that may have partially
accounted for the feeling of pleasure with which he undertook the task.

During the remainder of the exercises he sat with the pupils, a silent
spectator of old Andrew's methods. The superintendent was more
impressively solemn than usual, and to the young minister, accustomed
mostly to city Sabbath schools where the average boy conducted himself
with considerable freedom, the place was oppressively rigid. He was
amazed at the solemn silence. The children were unusually well
behaved; even Mr. Hamilton's class was exemplary, for beside the usual
terror of Splinterin' Andra, the presence of the minister demanded the
very best conduct.

But the atmosphere of the place was oppressive to the bright,
high-spirited young man. The bare severity of the building was bad
enough in church, he felt, but in Sunday school it was disastrous. It
should be a bright place, full of light and life. He made up his mind
he would set Miss Cotton and the Ladies' Aid to redouble their efforts
towards improving the place. When the service ended with a long,
slowly-droned psalm and the children filed quietly out, whispering even
on the doorstep, the minister drew a deep breath of relief.

He found himself walking up the hill with old John Hamilton and Peter
McNabb. Behind them came the superintendent and Duncan Polite. Mr.
Hamilton turned to include them in their conversation.

"And what do ye think o' oor Sabbath school, Maister Egerton?" he was
saying. "Maister Johnstone here has made us a fine superintendent for
mony a lang year."

"It's very good indeed," answered the young man heartily; "fine
attendance, and the order is better than I ever saw it. But don't you
think children need a little more brightness and life in their service
to keep them interested?" He turned to his sour-faced elder with a
charming air of deference which would have disarmed any man but
Splinterin' Andra. But the elder's stick was already waving
threateningly behind him, like the tail of a lion aroused. The