lose,
the sound of boyish voices went and came, from garret to garret, telling
that the spirit of slumber had not yet taken possession of the place.
But these soon ceased. The wind moved the tall laburnums in the lane
without a sound, and the murmur of running water alone broke the
stillness, as the gurgle of the burn, and the rush of the distant
mill-dam met and mingled in the air of the summer night.

In the primitive village of Clayton, at this midsummer time, gentle and
simple were wont to seek their rest by the light of the long gloaming.
But to-night there was light in the manse--in the minister's study, and
in other parts of the house as well. Lights were carried hurriedly past
uncurtained windows, and flared at last through the open door, as a
woman's anxious face looked out.

"What can be keeping him?" she murmured, as she shaded the flickering
candle and peered out into the gathering darkness. "It's no' like him
to linger at a time like this. God send he was at home."

Another moment of eager listening, and then the anxious face was
withdrawn and the door closed. Soon a sound broke the stillness of the
village street; a horseman drew up before the minister's house, and the
door was again opened.

"Well, Janet?" said the rider, throwing the reins on the horse's neck
and pausing as he went in. The woman curtseyed with a very relieved
face.

"They'll be glad to see you up the stairs, sir. The minister's no' long
home."

She lighted the doctor up the stairs, and then turned briskly in another
direction. In a minute she was kneeling before the kitchen hearth, and
was stirring up the buried embers.

"Has my father come, Janet?" said a voice out of the darkness.

"Yes, he's come. He's gone up the stairs. I'll put on the kettle. I
dare say he'll be none the worse of a cup of tea after his ride."

Sitting on the high kitchen dresser, her cheek close against the
darkening window, sat a young girl, of perhaps twelve or fourteen years
of age. She had been reading by the light that lingered long at that
western window, but the entrance of Janet's candle darkened that, and
the book, which at the first moment of surprise had dropped out of her
hand, she now hastily put behind her out of Janet's sight. But she need
not have feared a rebuke for "blindin' herself" this time, for Janet was
intent on other matters, and pursued her work in silence. Soon the
blaze sprung up, and the dishes and covers on the