is!"

"Are you sure?" Elspeth squeaked.

"I swear he is."

The church door opened and a gentleman came out, a little man, boyish in
the back, with the eager face of those who live too quickly. But it was
not at him that Tommy pointed reassuringly; it was at the monster church
key, half of which protruded from his tail pocket and waggled as he
moved, like the hilt of a sword.

Speaking like an old residenter, Tommy explained that he had brought his
sister to see the church. "She's ta'en aback," he said, picking out
Scotch words carefully, "because it's littler than the London kirks, but
I telled her--I telled her that the preaching is better."

This seemed to please the stranger, for he patted Tommy on the head
while inquiring, "How do you know that the preaching is better?"

"Tell him, Elspeth," replied Tommy, modestly.

"There ain't nuthin' as Tommy don't know," Elspeth explained. "He knows
what the minister is like, too."

"He's a noble sight," said Tommy.

"He can get anything from God he likes," said Elspeth.

"He's a terrible big man," said Tommy.

This seemed to please the little gentleman less. "Big!" he exclaimed,
irritably; "why should he be big?"

"He is big," Elspeth almost screamed, for the minister was her last
hope.

"Nonsense!" said the little gentleman. "He is--well, I am the minister."

"You!" roared Tommy, wrathfully.

"Oh, oh, oh!" sobbed Elspeth.

For a moment the Rev. Mr. Dishart looked as if he would like to knock
two little heads together, but he walked away without doing it.

"Never mind," whispered Tommy hoarsely to Elspeth. "Never mind, Elspeth,
you have me yet."

This consolation seldom failed to gladden her, but her disappointment
was so sharp to-day that she would not even look up.

"Come away to the cemetery, it's grand," he said; but still she would
not be comforted.

"And I'll let you hold my hand--as soon as we're past the houses," he
added.

"I'll let you hold it now," he said, eventually; but even then Elspeth
cried dismally, and her sobs were hurting him more than her.

He knew all the ways of getting round Elspeth, and when next he spoke it
was with a sorrowful dignity. "I didna think," he said, "as yer wanted
me never to be able to speak again; no, I didna think it, Elspeth."

She took her hands from her face and looked at him inquiringly.

"One of the stories mamma telled me and Reddy," he said, "were a man
what saw such a beauty thing that he was st