al rule, and that contrary to
all experience and observation, duty pointed two ways at once.

CHAPTER THREE.

The time came when the decision could no longer be delayed. The
minister was away from home, and before his return it would be made
known formally to his people that he was to leave them, and after that
the sooner his departure took place it would be the better for all
concerned, and so Janet must brace herself for the task.

So out of the dimness of her spotless kitchen she came one day into the
pleasant light of May, knowing that before she entered it again, she
would have made her mother's heart as sore as her own. All day, and for
many days, she had been planning what she should say to her mother, for
she felt that it must be farewell.

"If you know not of two ways which to choose, take that which is
roughest and least pleasing to yourself, and the chances are it will be
the right one," said she to herself. "I read that in a book once, but
it's ill choosing when both are rough, and I know not what to do."

Out into the brightness of the Spring day she came, with many misgivings
as to how she was to speed in her errand.

"It's a bonny day, bairns," said she, and her eye wandered wistfully
down the village street, and over the green fields, to the hills that
rose dimly in the distance. The mild air softly fanned her cheek,
pleasant sights were round her everywhere, and at the garden gate she
lingered, vaguely striving under their influence to cast her burden from
her.

"I mun hae it ower," she muttered to herself as she went on. In each
hand she held firmly the hand of a child. Marian and little Will were
to go with her for safe keeping; the lads were at the school, and in her
absence Graeme was to keep the house, and take care of little Rose.

"Oh, Janet!" she exclaimed, as she went down the lane a bit with them;
"I wish I were going with you, it's such a bonny day."

But Janet knew that what she had to say, would be better said without
her presence, so she shook her head.

"You know Miss Graeme, my dear, you mun keep the house, and we would
weary carrying wee Rosie, and she could never go half the distance on
her feet; and mind, if ony leddies call, the short bread is in the ben
press, and gin they begin with questions, let your answers be short and
ceevil, like a gude bairn, and take gude care o' my bonny wee lily,"
added she, kissing the pale little girl as she set her down. "But I
n