oroughfare, and that bull had been getting more savage lately, and he
could not always persuade people that it was dangerous to pass near him;
but Gowrie had said it was nonsense, and so forth. Well, you see, I'm
not very fond of old Gowrie, and when I saw how meekly Geordie submitted
to him, I felt provoked, and began to speak a little strongly, as we
middies sometimes do--swore, in fact. And if Geordie didn't make me feel
more ashamed of myself than ever I did in my life. You've tried your
hand on me before now, Gracie, and I'm sure you'll be glad to
hear--well, that I'm going to try to lead a very different life now."
Walter's voice faltered, and Grace looked at him with glistening eyes.

After a few moments' silence, she said, "But Walter, dear, you haven't
told me yet what Geordie said."

"Well, Grace, I hardly think I should like to tell you all he said. But
he came, and laying his hand on my shoulder, looked at me with those
earnest eyes of his. 'You've been very kind to me, Maister Campbell,' he
began, 'and it would be ill-done no to min' ye that ye are giving a sore
heart to your best Friend ye have by takin' his dear name in vain,' and
then he said a little more about it. I was so taken aback, Grace, I
could hardly believe my own ears. It must have required a lot of
downright courage to speak like that; there isn't a mid in all our crew
who would have ventured to do so. And yet I dare say I'm in for
something of the same kind when I go back again to the ship. For you
know I must be a 'good soldier,' Grace," added Walter, with a gentle,
fearless look in his eyes that carried Grace's thoughts back to an early
scene, when she stood in the crowded street in her nurse's hand, and
watched her father's face as he rode alongside his men to his last
battle. And as she looked at Walter's face, she remembered some old
words which say, "He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that
taketh a city;" and she lifted up her heart, and gave God thanks that
this young spirit, so dear and precious to her, had taken him for his
Leader and Lord.

CHAPTER V.

HOW GEORDIE'S HERDING DAYS CAME TO AN END.

It was a lovely autumn evening. The valley of Kirklands lay flooded in
the sunset glow. Its yellowing fields were tinged with warm-crimson and
purple, and the golden light shimmered on the trees and fringed the dark
fir tops. Never had her home looked more beautiful, Grace thought, when,
at last, the brother and sist