too, but Don did not know what papa did to Ranald, and he did not
know where Ranald went, but he is pretty badly hurted, I am sure. That
great big Aleck McRae is old enough to be his father. Wasn't it mean of
him, mother?"

Poor Hughie was almost in tears, and his mother, who sat listening too
eagerly to correct her little boy's ethics or grammar, was as nearly
overcome as he. She wished she knew where Ranald was. He had not
appeared at the evening Bible class, and Murdie had reported that he
could not find him anywhere.

She put Hughie to bed, and then saw Maimie to her room. But Maimie was
very unwilling to go to bed.

"Oh, auntie," she whispered, as her aunt kissed her good night, "I
cannot go to sleep!" And then, after a pause, she said, shyly, "Do you
think he is badly hurt?"

Then the minister's wife, looking keenly into the girl's face, made
light of Ranald's misfortune.

"Oh, he will be all right," she said, "as far as his hurt is concerned.
That is the least part of his trouble. You need not worry about that.
Good night, my dear." And Maimie, relieved by her aunt's tone, said
"good night" with her heart at rest.

Then Mrs. Murray went into the study, determined to find out what had
passed between her husband and Ranald. She found him lying on his couch,
luxuriating in the satisfaction of a good day's work behind him, and
his first pipe nearly done. She at once ventured upon the thing that lay
heavy upon her heart. She began by telling all she knew of the trouble
from its beginning in the church, and then waited for her husband's
story.

For some moments he lay silently smoking.

"Ah, well," he said, at length, knocking out his pipe, "perhaps I was a
little severe with the lad. He may not have been so much to blame."

"Oh, papa! What did you do?" said his wife, in an anxious voice.

"Well," said the minister, hesitating, "I found that the young
rascal had struck Aleck McRae first, and a very bad blow it was. So I
administered a pretty severe rebuke and sent him home."

"Oh, what a shame!" cried his wife, in indignant tears. "It was far more
the fault of Peter and Aleck and the rest. Poor Ranald!"

"Now, my dear," said the minister, "you need not fear for Ranald. I do
not suppose he cares much. Besides, his face was not fit to be seen, so
I sent him home. Well, it--"

"Yes," burst in his wife, "great, brutal fellow, to strike a boy like
that!"

"Boy?" said her husband. "Well, he may be, but not