lmond sits on the plaster to keep it in its
place, while I time the twenty minutes with a stop-watch.

At the end of this period of crisis the patient is pronounced past the
worst. But, being in a state of collapse, it becomes necessary to rouse
him with a strong stimulant. So, having sent the ladies to a place of
safety, we take off the plaster tenderly, and kindly show Mac the
oatmeal and the sand. We tell him that there was never anything the
matter with him at all. We express a hope that he will find that the
castor-oil has done him good. A little castor-oil is an excellent thing
at any time. And we also advise him, the next time he feels inclined to
work off a sell on us or play any more of his pranks, to have a
qualified medical man on the premises. Quain is evidently not good
enough. He makes mistakes. We show him the passage.

Then we advise him to put on his clothes, and not make a fool of himself
by staying in bed in the middle of the day.

Whereupon, somewhat hurriedly, we retreat to our bedrooms; and, locking
the doors, sit down to observe with interest the bolts bending and the
hinges manfully resisting, while Mac with a poker in either hand flings
himself wildly against them. He says he wants to see us, but we reply
that we are engaged.

III

THE COLLEGING OF SIMEON GLEG

_Forth from the place of furrows
To the Town of the Many Towers;
Full many a lad from the ploughtail
Has gone to strive with the hours_,

_Leaving the ancient wisdom
Of tilth and pasturage,
For the empty honour of striving,
And the emptier name of sage_.

"_Shadows_."

Without blared all the trumpets of the storm. The wind howled and the
rain blattered on the manse windows. It was in the upland parish of
Blawrinnie, and the minister was preparing his Sabbath's sermon. The
study lamp was lit and the window curtains were drawn. Robert Ford
Buchanan was the minister of Blawrinnie. He was a young man who had only
been placed a year or two, and he had a great idea of the importance of
his weekly sermons to the Blawrinnie folk. He also spoke of "My People"
in an assured manner when he came up to the Assembly in May:

"I am thinking of giving my people a series of lectures on the Old
Testament, embodying the results of--"

"Hout na, laddie," said good Roger Drumly, who got a D.D. for marrying a
professor's sister (and deserved a V.C.), "ye had better stick to the
Shorter's Quastions an' preach n