dramatic,
almost mysterious, so withdrawn it was out of the cold, so turned in
upon its own soul of the fireplace. It might have stood, in the snow and
the silence, for a shell and a symbol of the humanity within, for angels
or other strangers to mark with curiosity. Mr and Mrs Murchison were
neither angels nor strangers; they looked at it and saw that the
Peterson place was still standing empty, and that old Mr Fisher hadn't
finished his new porch before zero weather came to stop him.

The young people were well ahead; Mrs Murchison, on her husband's arm,
stepped along with the spring of an impetus undisclosed.

"Is it to be the Doctor tonight?" asked John Murchison. "He was so
hoarse this morning I wouldn't be surprised to see Finlay in the pulpit.
They're getting only morning services in East Elgin just now, while
they're changing the lighting arrangements."

"Are they, indeed? Well, I hope they'll change them and be done with
it, for I can't say I'm anxious for too much of their Mr Finlay in Knox
Church."

"Oh, you like the man well enough for a change, Mother!" John assured
her.

"I've nothing to say against his preaching. It's the fellow himself. And
I hope we won't get him tonight for, the way I feel now, if I see him
gawking up the pulpit steps it'll be as much as I can do to keep in my
seat, and so I just tell you, John."

"You're a little out of patience with him, I see," said Mr Murchison.

"And it would be a good thing if more than me were out of patience with
him. There's such a thing as too much patience, I've noticed."

"I dare say," replied her husband, cheerfully.

"If Advena were any daughter of mine she'd have less patience with him."

"She's not much like you," assented the father.

"I must say I like a girl to have a little spirit if a man has none. And
before I'd have him coming to the house week after week the way he has,
I'd see him far enough."

"He might as well come there as anywhere," Mr Murchison replied,
ambiguously. "I suppose he has now and then time on his hands?"

"Well, he won't have it on his hands much longer."

"He won't, eh?"

"No, he won't," Mrs Murchison almost shook the arm she was attached to.
"John, I think you might show a little interest! The man's going to be
married."

"You don't say that?" John Murchison's tone expressed not only
astonishment but concern. Mrs Murchison was almost mollified.

"But I do say it. His future wife is coming here to Elgin ne