se part in life had been to plant trees for other people to
make love under.

But there was no love made that day--only a little talk on equal terms
concerning Edinburgh and Professor Ramage's, where on an eve of tea and
philosophy it was conceivable that they might have met. Only, as a
matter of fact they did not. But at least there were a great many
wonderful things which might have happened. And the time flew.

But in the mid-stream of interest Grace Hutchison recollected herself.

"It is time for my father's lunch. I must go in," she said.

And she went. She had forgotten her duties for more than half an hour.

But even as she went, she turned and said simply, "You may keep the
handkerchief till you find your cap."

"Thank you," said Duncan, watching her so soberly that the white cap on
his head did not look ridiculous--at least not to Grace.

As soon as she was out of sight he took off the handkerchief carefully,
and put it, pin and all, into the leather case in his inner pocket where
he had been accustomed to keep his matriculation card.

He looked down at the kirkyard wall over which his cap had flown.

"Oh, hang the cap!" he said; "what's about a cap, any way?"

Now, this was a most senseless observation, for the cap was a good cap
and a new cap, and had cost him one shilling and sixpence at the
hat-shop up three stairs at the corner of the Bridges.

* * * * *

The next evening Duncan Rowallan stood by his own door. Deaf old Mary
Haig, his housekeeper, was clacking the pots together in the kitchen and
grumbling steadily to herself. Duncan drew the door to, and went up by
the side of his garden, past the straw-built sheds of his bees, a legacy
from a former occupant, into the cool breathing twilight of the fields.

He sauntered slowly up the dykeside with his hands behind his back. He
was friends with all the world. It was true that the school-board had
met that day and his salary had been still further reduced, so that it
was now thought that for very pride he would leave. In his interests the
Kers had assaulted and battered four fellow-Christians of the contrary
opinion, and the Reverend William Henry Calvin had shaken his fist in
the stern face of Dr. Hutchison as he defied him at the school-board
meeting. But Duncan only smiled and set his lips a little more firmly.
He did not mean to let himself be driven out--at least not yet.

Up by the little wood there was a f