ns to a
better end or was this all? Was he really going to be their pastor in
the true sense of the word, or merely an agreeable companion?

He sighed deeply over these perplexing and haunting questions. He did
not confess, even to himself, however, that their burden was augmented
greatly by another problem that had vexed him all winter. It had
assumed a graver aspect that very day, owing to a piece of news he had
heard at the dinner-table.

Peter McNabb, Junior, whose tongue was the McNabb's family skeleton,
had started the meal with, "Say, folks, Don Neil's comin' home
to-morrow. Neil told me to-day."

"Indeed," said the blacksmith as he heaped Mr. Egerton's plate with
fried pork and potatoes, "he's home early this spring."

"He's jist comin' for the Easter holidays; Sandy sent for him to come
an' help with the logs. He's goin' back again after. Sandy an' all
his gang are at the camp back o' the lake there waitin' for the ice to
break, an' I seen Jimmy Archie Red yisterday, an' he says they're
havin' a whale o' a time, drinkin' an' cuttin' up like sin."

"Aye, aye," said Peter, Senior, shaking his head sadly, "poor Sandy's
goin' like his father, Ah'm afraid; Neil More was too fond o' the
drink. Duncan Polite'll be feelin' terrible, if he hears it."

"Mebby Don'll straighten them up when he comes," suggested Flora, who
secretly admired the handsome young student.

"Indeed," broke in her mother, busy with the tea-cups, "I'm just afraid
Donald's not much better. He seemed to be a steady boy once, but I
guess he's got his head turned in the city. They say he's just filled
with infidel notions."

"I've heard that he don't go to church, since him an' Jessie Hamilton
split up last fall," declared Peter, Junior, injudiciously. He turned
to his sister a face of indignant reproach. "What on earth are you
jabbin' your feet into me for, Flo? It's true, every word. Mack
Fraser says Allan wrote home----"

"Pass Mr. Egerton the pickles, Peter," said Mrs. McNabb, with a warning
wink from behind the tea-pot. And Peter shoved the cucumbers across
the table in sulky silence, wondering why on earth it was that he could
never be allowed to speak at the table without some mysterious
interruption.

But John Egerton understood perfectly, and this evening, as he walked
down the hillside, his conscience was once more asking troublesome
questions. Was he responsible for Donald's changed conduct? This man
who had sav