your pockets?"

"No, sir, I don't think so," replied Andrew, in all honesty.

When told that he must apologise, he did not see it, but was willing to
argue the matter out.

Next year he matriculated at Edinburgh, sharing one room with two
others; studying through the night, and getting their bed when they
rose. He was a failure in the classics, because they left you where
you were, but in his third year he woke the logic class-room, and
frightened the professor of moral philosophy.

He was nearly rusticated for praying at a debating society for a
divinity professor who was in the chair.

"O Lord!" he cried, fervently, "open his eyes, guide his tottering
footsteps, and lead him from the paths of folly into those that are
lovely and of good report, for lo! his days are numbered, and the
sickle has been sharpened, and the corn is not yet ripe for the
cutting."

When Andrew graduated he was known as student of mark.

He returned to Wheens, before setting out for London, with the
consciousness of his worth.

Yet he was only born to follow, and his chance of making a noise in the
world rested on his meeting a stronger than himself. During his summer
vacations he had weaved sufficient money to keep himself during the
winter on porridge and potatoes.

Clarrie was beautiful and all that.

"We'll say no more about it, then," the minister said after a pause.

"The matter," replied Andrew, "cannot be dismissed in that way.
Reasonable or not, I do undoubtedly experience sensations similar to
Clarrie's. But in my love I notice a distinct ebb and flow. There are
times when I don't care a hang for her."

"Andrew!"

"I beg your pardon. Still, it is you who have insisted on discussing
this question in the particular instance. Love in the abstract is of
much greater moment."

"I have sometimes thought, Andrew," Mr. Eassie said, "that you are
lacking in the imaginative faculty."

"In other words, love is a mere fancy. Grant that, and see to what it
leads. By imagining that I have Clarrie with me I am as well off as if
I really had. Why, then, should I go to needless expense, and take her
from you?"

The white-haired minister rose, for the ten o'clock bell was ringing
and it was time for family worship.

"My boy," he said, "if there must be a sacrifice let the old man make
it. I, too, have imagination."

For the moment there was a majesty about him that was foreign to his
usual bearing. Andrew was touched