halt, Wallace Sutherland was sitting with his mother. He had been the
centre of many admiring glances, especially from the girls. And indeed
he was a fine-looking young fellow and it was no wonder that his uncle
was so proud of him and his mother so afraid. He was hugely enjoying
the Piper's tumultuous entry, and his black eyes were dancing with
delight, when the old man, his red blazing eyes fixed upon his supposed
enemy, was backing Gavin into a corner.

But Mrs. Sutherland, for all that Orchard Glen pronounced her proud and
cold, was a timid, gentle woman, and Lauchie's appearance filled her
with panic.

"Oh, Wallace, my dear," she whispered in alarm. "Oh, how dreadful.
He's going to strike him----"

Wallace was very loath to put an end to the fun, but he rose and
touched the enraged Piper on the arm.

"Mr. McDonald," he whispered tactfully, "my uncle, Dr. McGarry, is the
Chairman and he,--he's just a little bit nervous. Won't you get your
pipes and play for us? He doesn't know what to do next, and we've been
waiting anxiously to hear you."

Wallace Sutherland's charming manner seldom failed him and it did not
now. The Piper looked at him and the fierce rage died from his eyes.
The clenched fists dropped to his side and Gavin slipped into a seat.
Wallace nodded to his uncle and Dr. McGarry hastily announced, without
any embarrassing explanations, that the Piper had been unavoidably
delayed but that he was now ready to favour them with a selection for
which they were all so anxiously waiting.

So Lauchie shouldered his instrument and took his place on the
platform. The storm was abating but there were still thunderings and
occasional flashes of lightning concerning the crass ignorance and
stupidity of the people of Orchard Glen and Methodists the world over.

"Come up to Glenoro and we'll be learning you manners," came rumbling
out of the thunder cloud. "We'll be showing you how they treat a Piper
there."

But by this time the pipes were beginning to scream their opening note,
and Lauchie was blowing his anger into the chanter. The tune rose on a
shrill spiral and high and clear it poured forth the challenging notes
of a fierce pibroch, the war song of the Clan McDonald. The player
marched back and forth across the platform keeping quick step to the
mad tune, that rose louder and faster and shriller at each step.

The audience began to clap, to stamp, to cheer, and still the war cry
of the McDon