ill it found the steady gaze of Ranald fastened upon
her. It was only for a moment, but in that moment she felt her heart
jump and her face grow hot, and it did not help her that she knew that
the people were all wondering at her furious blushes. Of course the
story of the sugaring-off had gone the length of the land and had formed
the subject of conversation at the church door that morning, where
Ranald had to bear a good deal of chaff about the young lady, and her
dislike of forfeits, till he was ready to fight if a chance should but
offer. With unspeakable rage and confusion, he noticed Hughie's pointing
finger. He caught, too, Maimie's quick look, with the vivid blush that
followed. Unfortunately, others besides himself had noticed this, and
Don and Peter Ruagh, in the seat behind him, made it the subject of
congratulatory remarks to Ranald.

At this point the minister rose in the pulpit, and all waited with
earnest and reverent mien for the announcing of the psalm.

The Rev. Alexander Murray was a man to be regarded in any company and
under any circumstances, but when he stood up in his pulpit and faced
his congregation he was truly superb. He was above the average height,
of faultless form and bearing, athletic, active, and with a "spring in
every muscle." He had coal-black hair and beard, and a flashing blue eye
that held his people in utter subjection and put the fear of death upon
evil-doers under the gallery. In every movement, tone, and glance there
breathed imperial command.

"Let us worship God by singing to His praise in the one hundred and
twenty-first psalm:

'I to the hills will lift mine eyes,
From whence doth come mine aid.'"

His voice rang out over the congregation like a silver bell, and Maimie
thought she had never seen a man of such noble presence.

After the reading of the psalm the minister sat down, and Straight Rory
rose in his box, and after his manner, began feeling about for the first
note of the chant that would introduce the noble old tune "St. Paul's."
A few moments he spent twisting his face and shoulders in a manner that
threatened to ruin the solemnity of the worshipers under the gallery,
till finally he seemed to hit upon the pitch desired, and throwing back
his head and closing one eye, he proceeded on his way. Each line he
chanted alone, after the ancient Scottish custom, after which the
congregation joined with him in the tune. The custom survived from the
t