the praise service of the old Scottish church,
have given place to the light, staccato tinkle of the revival chorus, or
the shorn and mutilated skeleton of the ancient psalm tune.

But while the psalm had been moving on in its solemn and stately way,
Ranald had been enduring agony at the hands of Peter Ruagh sitting just
behind him. Peter, whose huge, clumsy body was a fitting tabernacle for
the soul within, labored under the impression that he was a humorist,
and indulged a habit of ponderous joking, trying enough to most people,
but to one of Ranald's temperament exasperating to a high degree. His
theme was Ranald's rescue of Maimie, and the pauses of the singing he
filled in with humorous comments that, outside, would have produced only
weariness, but in the church, owing to the strange perversity of human
nature, sent a snicker along the seat. Unfortunately for him, Ranald's
face was so turned that he could not see it, and so he had no hint of
the wrath that was steadily boiling up to the point of overflow.

They were nearing the close of the last verse of the psalm, when Hughie,
whose eyes never wandered long from Ranald's direction, uttered a sharp
"Oh, my!" There was a shuffling confusion under the gallery, and when
Maimie and her aunt looked, Peter Ruagh's place was vacant.

By this time the minister was standing up for prayer. His eye, too,
caught the movement in the back seat.

"Young men," he said, sternly, "remember you are in God's house. Let me
not have to mention your names before the congregation. Let us pray."

As the congregation rose for prayer, Mrs. Murray noticed Peter Ruagh
appear from beneath the book-board and quietly slip out by the back door
with his hand to his face and the blood streaming between his fingers;
and though Ranald was standing up straight and stiff in his place, Mrs.
Murray could read from his rigid look the explanation of Peter's bloody
face. She gave her mind to the prayer with a sore heart, for she had
learned enough of those wild, hot-headed youths to know that before
Peter Ruagh's face would be healed more blood would have to flow.

The prayer proceeded in its leisurely way, indulging here and there
in quiet reverie, or in exultant jubilation over the "attributes,"
embracing in its worldwide sweep "the interests of the kingdom" far and
near, and of that part of humanity included therein present and to come,
and buttressing its petitions with theological argument, systema