run o' them
than you, Sandy. I got a wife that can hold her own with annybody, and
my word's law at home. But I'm not ashamed to say that woman's one too
many for me. I've been a trustee," he ended up feelingly.

"Sandy thinks he's a mighty hand at managin' folks," put in William
Winters, happy to second any one who lived in fear of the gentler sex.
"But I'm willin' to make a bet right here that if he was to run again'
the Dook she'd come out ahead."

"Ah'm willin' to take ye ony day, Weeliam. Ah'd like to see the wumman
that'd get the upper hand o' me. Jist name yer bet, man."

"Hoots! toots!" cried Uncle Hughie in his stateliest manner. "Indeed,
it is surely not making a bet on a lady you will be, whatever!"

"I'll tell ye!" cried Spectacle John, his eyes twinkling. "If you an'
the Dook gets to argifyin', or gets into any difference, an' she gets
the best o' the bargain, you'll promise William and all of us here that
you'll go back to church and tell the minister you was a darn fool for
the way you acted."

Sandy McQuarry's bristling brows came together, "Ah'll take ye!" he
cried, slapping his knee fiercely. "Ah'd be a fool onyway, if Ah let a
wumman scare me the way you did, John. Ah, ha! Here's his reverence
now, comin' to tell ye about Muskoky, very like. Ah'll jist be biddin'
ye a good-evenin'." He tramped down the steps as the tall form of the
minister came into the ring of light.

"Fine night," remarked each of the company in turn.

"We would jist be talkin' about the play-net Mars a minute ago,
indeed," said Uncle Hughie Cameron, striving to cover Sandy's retreat.

"Yes, yes," said the minister with a sigh. "Astronomy's a wonderful
subject--wonderful. The more we learn of the Creator's works, the more
we wonder at His greatness and goodness."

"Eh! eh! it will jist be fearsome, indeed!" cried Uncle Hughie. "How
far, now, would you be saying the sun is from us, Silas--ninety--now
what would it be?"

"Ninety-five million mile!" declared the astronomer impressively.
"There's a fine day's walk for ye!"

"Ninety-five million!" cried the blacksmith, astounded. "Are ye sure
it's not feet ye mean, Si?" he asked hopefully.

"No--miles," was the inexorable answer. "Lord love ye, man! it's a
good thing. If she was any nearer she'd burn us all to a frazzle!"

"Eh, now, ain't that a caution!" cried Jake Sawyer, with the air of one
who has just had a narrow escape from destruction.

"Astro