the church. But he had a very ambitious wife and daughter, and as the
latter had been taking music lessons and cherishing rosy dreams of one
day playing in church, the organ party felt that Mr. Fraser would not
be quite immovable. Old John Hamilton, of course, scarcely counted.
He said "aye, aye," in a dazed way when his daughters clamoured for his
consent, adding that "he'd see what Andra said." Peter Farquhar, they
knew, might be difficult, as he belonged to the Oa and was, therefore,
very old-fashioned; but they all agreed that if Andrew Johnstone could
be moved, all the others would follow; so some one must ask his
permission.

Miss Cotton suggested that Wee Andra, the son of old Andra, would be
the proper person to carry their request to the elder. "Wee Andra" the
young man had been called in his babyhood, to distinguish him from his
father, and he still bore the anomalous title though he stood
six-feet-four in his moccasins and was disproportionately broad. But
in spite of these physical securities, the young giant flatly refused
the doubtful honour of approaching his father on the sore subject; so,
after much discussion, the delicate task devolved upon Mr. Watson, the
schoolmaster. The master had "tack" and education, Miss Cotton
explained, and was just the man for the position. So, fortified by
this flattery, the young man went up over the hills one morning on his
dangerous quest.

The schoolmaster was a young man who was born for agitation; he loved
to throw himself heart and soul into some new enterprise, and upon this
occasion he had the satisfaction at least of getting up plenty of
excitement. What transpired in that fatal interview between him and
the ruling elder could never be accurately learned from the former.
When questioned upon the subject, he confined his remarks to dark hints
regarding antediluvian pig-headedness and backwoods ignorance, but Wee
Andra, who in his heart was rather proud of his sire's fighting
qualities, spread the account of the schoolmaster's defeat over the
whole neighbourhood, with the result that for a season the agitators
left their common enemy to turn upon and rend each other.

On the evening after the encounter, Duncan Polite sat expectantly on
his door-step. He knew that Andrew would be sure to come down to tell
him of the affair, and he was waiting in some trepidation, hoping that
his fiery old friend had not said something which would wreck forever
the peace