illiam, the Rector's old horse, slipping a
little, and two shabby, hair-covered trunks falling on his back, to be
recovered by Jack Dunn, the man-of-all-work, who could drive on
occasion.

Which of the little black figures running on in front of the car was the
mother's treasure? Henry was up to as many pranks as ever, but now he
had a quiet friend to restrain him, and his mother and the parish were
very glad of it.

"Dear mistress, thon's a settled wee fellow, thon McGregor: he's the
quare wise guide for we'er ain wichel." Thus spoke Jack Dunn when the
holidays drew near an end. "Fleech him to come back."

"There is no need to urge him, Jack," replied his mistress, smiling; "he
is very anxious to visit us again."

"Weel-a-weel, ma'am, I never tould you how Master Henry blew up the
sexton wi' his crackers, twa nights afore he went to school--"

"Never, Jack!"

"Na, na! Jack wadna be for vexin' you an' his reverence. Master Henry
an' Mat, the herd, let off fireworks outside the sexton's door, an' him
an' the wife, an' the sisters an' the grannie jumpin' out o' their beds,
an' runnin' about the house, thinkin' the Judgment Day was come, an'
maybe that the Old Enemy was come for them--"

"Oh, Jack, hush; how terrible! Think what you are saying."

"Nae word o' lie, mistress. The sexton was in a quare rage, an' the
grannie lay for three weeks wi' the scare. It was hushed up becase there
isna a soul in the parish wad like to annoy his reverence. But
whist--not a word out o' your mouth! Our wean has got thon ither wee
comrade to steady him _now_."

McGregor did steady Henry. They fished Gartan Lough; they boated, they
shot over the mountains, they skated on the same lovely expanse of lake,
and they heard, in the marshes each Easter the whirring bleat of the
snipe. This was the history of school and college vacations for many
years. Then first love came--society was sought for; the neighbouring
clergy and their families came to Gartan Rectory; young couples wandered
blissfully in the fairest scenes in all the world. The friends loved the
same sweet maiden, and she deceived them both, and married a ponderous
rector, possessed of six hundred per annum, the very year they left old
Trinity! They were firmer friends than ever, yet that sweet false one
was never mentioned between them. In a reverently-veiled corner in each
heart, however, still dwelt a dear ideal which the false beloved had not
been able to destroy.

The