bbath day when he was at home it was
the custom of the household to gather for the reading of the Word before
breakfast. He would never take his rifle with him through the woods on
the Sabbath, and even when absent from home on a hunting expedition,
when the Sabbath day came round, he religiously kept camp. It is true,
he did not often go to church, and when the minister spoke to him about
this, he always agreed that it was a good thing to go to church. When he
had no better excuse, he would apologize for his absence upon the ground
"that he had not the clothes." The greater part of the trouble was
that he was shy and proud, and felt himself to be different from the
church-going people of the community, and shrank from the surprised
looks of members, and even from the words of approving welcome that
often greeted his presence in church.

It was not according to his desire that Ranald was sent to the manse.
That was the doing of his sister, Kirsty, who for the last ten years
had kept house for him. Not that there was much housekeeping skill about
Kirsty, as indeed any one might see even without entering Macdonald
Dubh's house. Kirsty was big and strong and willing, but she had not
the most elemental ideas of tidiness. Her red, bushy hair hung in wisps
about her face, after the greater part of it had been gathered into a
tight knob at the back of her head. She was a martyr to the "neuralagy,"
and suffered from a perennial cold in the head, which made it necessary
for her to wear a cloud, which was only removed when it could be
replaced by her nightcap. Her face always bore the marks of her labors,
and from it one could gather whether she was among the pots or busy with
the baking. But she was kindhearted, and, up to her light, sought to
fill the place left empty by the death of the wife and mother in that
home, ten years before.

When the minister's wife opened the door, a hot, close, foul smell
rushed forth to meet her. Upon the kitchen stove a large pot of
pig's food was boiling, and the steam and smell from the pot made
the atmosphere of the room overpoweringly fetid. Off the kitchen or
living-room were two small bedrooms, in one of which lay Macdonald Dubh.

Kirsty met the minister's wife with a warm welcome. She helped her
off with her hood and coat, patting her on the shoulder the while, and
murmuring words of endearment.

"Ah, M'eudail! M'eudail bheg! and did you come through the night all the
way, and it is as