soldiers, accompanied by a fine military band. The boy was
enthralled, he could not speak his delight, but he looked into his
grandfather's face with eyes painfully eloquent. It was evident that
he had life to learn, not gradually, as the usual infant learns it;
but that its good and evil would assail him through all his senses in
their full force. And Ruleson understood, partially, how abnormally
large and important very trivial events might appear to him.

Soon after four o'clock they arrived at their destination, and found a
train omnibus about to go their way. Ruleson lifted his grandson into
it, and the vehicle set them down at the foot of his own hill; then he
carried the boy up to the cottage in his arms. The door was closed,
but there was the shining of fire and candlelight through the windows.
Yet their arrival was unnoticed, until Ruleson entered and stood the
little child in the middle of the room. With a cry of welcome Margot
and Christine rose. Ruleson pointed to the child standing in their
midst. The next moment Christine was removing his coat and cap, and
when Margot turned to him, his beauty and the pathos of his thin,
white face went straight to her heart. She took him in her arms and
said, "Bonnie wee laddie, do ye ken that I am your grandmither?"

"Ay, grandmither," he answered, "I ken. And I hae a grandfeyther too.
I am vera happy. Dinna send me awa', for ony sake."

Then the women set him in a big chair, and admired and loved him from
head to feet--his fair hair, his wonderful eyes, his little hands so
white and thin--his wee feet in their neat, well-fitting shoes--his
dress so good and so becoming--this new bairn of theirs was altogether
an unusual one in Culraine.

Ruleson quickly made himself comfortable in his usual house dress.
Christine began to set the table for their evening meal, and Margot
buttered the hot scones and infused the tea. This meal had a certain
air of festivity about it, and the guest of honor was the little child
sitting at Ruleson's right hand.

They had scarcely begun the meal, when there was a knock at the door,
and to Margot's cheerful "Come in, friend," Dr. Trenabie entered.

"Blessing on this house!" he said reverently, and then he walked
straight to the child, and looked earnestly into his face. The boy
looked steadily back at him, and as he did so he smiled, and held up
his arms. Then the Domine stooped and kissed him, and the thin, weak
arms clasped him round