tty, rising briskly, "I guess you are all right, Mack. I
confess I was a bit anxious about you, but--"

"There is no need," said Mack gravely. "I can sleep now."

"Good-night, then," replied Fatty, turning to go. "Cameron, I owe you a
whole lot. I won't forget it." He set his hat upon the back of his head,
sticking his hands into his pockets and surveying the group before him.
"Say! You Highlanders are a great bunch. I do not pretend to understand
you, but I want to say that between you you have saved the day." And
with that the cheery, frisky, irrepressible, but kindly little man faded
into the moonlight and was gone.

For the fourth time the day had been saved.

CHAPTER VI

A SABBATH DAY IN LATE AUGUST

It was a Sabbath day in late August, and in no month of the year does
a Sabbath day so chime with the time. For the Sabbath day is a day for
rest and holy thought, and the late August is the rest time of the year,
when the woods and fields are all asleep in a slumberous blue haze; the
sacred time, too, for in late August old Mother Earth is breathing her
holiest aspirations heavenward, having made offering of her best in the
full fruitage of the year. Hence a Sabbath day in late August chimes
marvellously well with the time.

And this particular Sabbath day was perfect of its kind, a dreamy,
drowsy day, a day when genial suns and hazy cool airs mingle in
excellent harmony, and the tired worker, freed from his week's toil,
basks and stretches, yawns and revels in rest under the orchard trees;
unless, indeed, he goes to morning church. And to morning church Cameron
went as a rule, but to-day, owing to a dull ache in his head and a
general sense of languor pervading his limbs, he had chosen instead, as
likely to be more healing to his aching head and his languid limbs, the
genial sun, tempered with cool and lazy airs under the orchard trees.
And hence he lay watching the democrat down the lane driven off to
church by Perkins, with Mandy beside him in the front seat, the seat
of authority and of activity, and Mr. Haley alone in the back seat, the
seat of honour and of retirement. Mrs. Haley was too overborne by the
heat and rush of the busy week to adventure the heat and dust of the
road, and to sustain the somewhat strenuous discourse of the Reverend
Harper Freeman, to whose flock the Haleys belonged. This, however, was
not Mrs. Haley's invariable custom. In the cooler weather it was her
habit to drive on a