n," he announced darkly,
"that's so licht in his heid that he doesna ken ony better than to
liken the land o' Burns to a few miles o' barren stones, is no a fit
person to expound the Word o' God."

The milkstand began to look uncomfortable. There had been a day when
Sandy McQuarry was an elder in the church, and as stanch a friend as
the minister possessed. But just the summer before he had been
grievously offended. Mr. Scott had gone on the annual excursion of the
Sons of Scotland to Muskoka. Here the endless chain of jeweled lakes,
the fairy islands floating on the dark waters, the rugged, barren rocks
set in masses of soft greenery, and above all the wild spirit of
freedom that pervaded this new beauty land, had enchanted the
minister's tired soul. So, upon his return, he had declared in a
tea-meeting speech at the church that Muskoka reminded him of Scotland.
The next Sabbath Sandy McQuarry drove past the Elmbrook church and
worshiped, fifteen miles away, with the Glenoro congregation, and there
he had worshiped ever since.

"Och, well, indeed," remarked Uncle Hughie, wisely reverting to an
earlier subject, "it will be a question that puzzles the greatest men
in the world, why some people must suffer. But, indeed, it is our own
selves that will be responsible. And as long as there will be one man
sinning in this world the race must suffer. Oh, yes, we will not be
beginning to learn that lesson yet, but will be fighting against each
other! Och, hoch! it will be a peety, indeed. But it will all come
out right in the end, never you fear. He came to show us how it's
done, oh, yes. The Almighty will be knowing what He is about, indeed."

"It's my opinion that the Almighty lets things go pretty much as they
please," grumbled the blacksmith. "When I was at Neeag'ra Falls----"

"Hoots!" cried the philosopher impatiently, "that would be jist child's
talk, William. There will be an unerring law governing everything man
does, jist as there's a law governing----" He hesitated for a
comparison.

"The movements o' this 'ere ball that we're standin' on," finished
Silas Long, with marked emphasis, and a meaning glance at his
unbelieving enemy.

"Standin' on a ball!" repeated Spectacle John wearily. "We'd better
all go an' join a circus, an' be done with it!"

"Well," said Jake Sawyer reasonably, "most o' the eddicated folks'll
tell you that's what the world is. Miss Weir, now, was tellin' that to
our twins