sition.

"'Total abstainers' they will call themselves," and the contempt in her
accent was wonderful.

"No, I am not," Carmichael hastened to reassure his hostess; "but there
are worse people than abstainers in the world, and it would be better
if we had a few more. I will stick to the milk, if you please."

"You will take what you please," and she was again mollified; "but the
great ministers always had their tasting after preaching; and I hef
heard one of them say that it wass a sin to despise the Lord's mercies.
You will be taking another glass of milk and resting a little."

"This hospitality reminds me of my mother, Mrs. Macpherson."
Carmichael was still inspired, and was, indeed, now in full sail. "She
was a Highland woman, and had the Gaelic. She sometimes called me Ian
instead of John."

"When you wass preaching about the shepherd finding the sheep, I wass
wondering how you had the way to the heart, and I might have been
thinking, oh yes, I might hef known"--all the time Janet was ever
bringing something new out of the cupboard, though Carmichael only
sipped the milk. "And what wass your mother's name?"

"Farquharson; her people came from Braemar; but they are all dead now,
and I am the last of the race."

"A good clan," cried Janet, in great spirits, "and a loyal; they were
out with the Macphersons in the '45. Will you happen to know whether
your ancestor suffered?"

"That he did, for he shot an English officer dead on his doorstep, and
had to flee the country; it was not a pretty deed."

"Had the officer broken bread with him?" inquired Janet, anxiously.

"No, he had come to quarter himself and his men on him, and said
something rude about the Prince."

"Your ancestor gave him back his word like a gentleman; but he would
maybe hef to stay away for a while. Wass he of the chief's blood?"

"Oh no, just a little laird, and he lost his bit of land, and we never
saw the place again."

"He would be a Dunniewassal, and proud it iss I am to see you in my
house; and the Gaelic, will you hef some words?"

"Just the sound of it, Mrs. Macpherson," and he repeated his three
sentences, all that he had learned of his mother, who had become a
Scotswoman in her speech.

"Call me Janet, my dear; and it iss the good Gaelic your mother must
have had, and it makes my heart glad to think my minister iss a
Farquharson, by the mother's side."

"We sing nothing but Psalms at church, Mrs. . . . . Janet, so yo