. But we're going
to reform."

"You need to, badly," she said. "But you need some one to reform you.
Look at Mr. Duff there, how vastly improved he is," and she waved her
hand to that gentleman, who was driving away with his wife in their
buckboard.

"He is a perfect dear," sighed Mrs. Duff, as she bowed to the minister.
"And you, too, Stewart," she added, giving his arm a little squeeze,
"you said just the right thing when those horrid people were going to
turn him out."

"Say! Your preacher isn't so bad after all," said her husband. "Wasn't
that a neat one for old Hayes?"

"He rather got you, though, Stewart."

"Yes, he did, by Jove! Not the first time, either, he's done it. But I
must look after that. Say, he's the limit for freshness though. Or is it
freshness? I'm not quite sure."

"Will he stay with us?" said his wife. "I really do hope he will."

"Guess he'll stay all right. He won't give up his job," said her
husband.

But next week proved Mr. Duff a poor prophet, for the minister after
the service informed his people that he had come to the conclusion that
another man might get better results as minister of the congregation; he
had therefore handed in his resignation to the Presbytery.

It was a shock to them all, but he adhered to his resolution in spite of
tearful lamentations from the women, wide-eyed amazement and dismay from
the bairns of the congregation, and indignation, loudly expressed, from
Neil Fraser and Stewart Duff, and others of their kind.

"Well," said Miss Quigg, struggling with indignant tears, as she was
passing out of the church, "you won't see Harry Hobbs in this church
again, nor me, either."

"Oh, yes, Miss Quigg, Harry has promised me that he will stick by the
church, and that he will be there every Sunday. And so will you, dear
Miss Quigg. I know you. You will do what is right."

But that little lady, with her head very erect and a red spot burning in
each faded cheek, passed out of the church saying nothing, the plumes on
her jaunty little hat quivering defiance and wrath against "those men,
who had so little spunk as to allow a little beast like Hayes to run
them."

CHAPTER V

THE WAR DRUM CALLS

"Well, dad," said Barry next evening as they were sitting in the garden
after tea, "I feel something like Mohammed's coffin, detached from earth
but not yet ascended into heaven. It's unpleasant to be out of a job.
I confess I shall always cherish a more intelligen