ied herself so freely and so lightly. It
was no one he had ever seen before. But some one crossed the way to
speak to him, and he lost sight of her, and a few steps brought him to
his own door. His house was close upon the street. It was of grey
stone, and only looked high because of the low thatched cottages near
it, on both sides of the way. On the left, a little back from the
street, stood the kirk, hardly higher than the house. It had no special
features, and was not unlike in appearance to the low outbuildings of
the manse, which extended behind it.

Its insignificance alone saved it from positive ugliness, but the
minister gave it as he passed, a fond admiring glance. He knew every
grey stone in its walls, and every pane of glass in its narrow windows.
He had not built it with his own hands but his heart had been in the
laying of every stone and the driving of every nail in it. And that was
true of the house as well. He had only time for a glance. For through
the close there came a shout, and his boys were upon him.

"Steady, lads. Is all well? Where is your mother, and how is your
sister? Robert, you'll take good care of Bendie and rub her well down.
She's quite done out, poor beast; and John, you'll help your brother.
She must go to the smithy on Monday. There is something wrong with one
of her shoes. I've been leading her for the last miles."

And so on. Not a spoken word of tenderness, but Davie leaned against
his father in utter content, and little Norman clasped his arms round
his knee. Jack eagerly helped to unsaddle the tired mare, not caring to
speak, though as a general thing he had plenty to say. And Robert had
enough to do with the lump that rose in his throat when he met his
father's eye. The father ended as he began:

"Where is your mother?"

The mother was standing at the kitchen-door with a child in her arms.

"Well, dearie?" said the one to the other--their eyes said the rest. It
was the child that the minister stooped to kiss, but the touch of his
hand on his wife's shoulder was better to her than a caress. Fond words
were rare between these two, who were indeed one--and fond words were
not needed between them.

Mrs Hume set down the child and helped her husband off with his wet
coat, and if he would have permitted it, she would have helped him off
with his boots also, since the wet and the chill had made him helpless.
But it was not needed this time. For a woman with