anger occupying his place would have to preach to
empty pews. He was thinking, of course, of old Mr Jamieson with whom he
occasionally exchanged and whose effect on the attendance had not failed
to reach him. With regard to Mr Jamieson he was compelled, in the end,
to resort to tactics: he omitted to announce the Sunday before that his
venerable neighbour would preach, and the congregation, outwitted,
had no resource but to sustain the beard-wagging old gentleman through
seventhly to the finish. There came a time when the dear human Doctor
also omitted to announce that Mr Finlay would preach, but for other
reasons, meanwhile, as Mrs Forsyth said, he had no difficulty in
conjuring a vacation congregation for his young substitute. They
came trooping, old and young. Mr and Mrs Murchison would survey their
creditable family rank with a secret compunction, remembering its
invariable gaps at other times, and then resolutely turn to the praise
of God with the reflection that one means to righteousness was as
blessed as another. They themselves never missed a Sunday, and as seldom
failed to remark on the way back that it was all very interesting, but
Mr Finlay couldn't drive it home like the Doctor. There were times,
sparse and special occasions, when the Doctor himself made one of the
congregation. Then he would lean back luxuriously in the corner of
his own pew, his wiry little form half-lost in the upholstery his
arms folded, his knees crossed, his face all humorous indulgence; yes,
humorous. At the announcement of the text a twinkle would lodge in the
shrewd grey eyes and a smile but half-suppressed would settle about the
corners of the flexible mouth: he knew what the young fellow there would
be at. And as the young fellow proceeded, his points would be weighed to
the accompaniment of the Doctor's pendent foot, which moved perpetually,
judiciously; while the smile sometimes deepened, sometimes lapsed, since
there were moments when any young fellow had to be taken seriously.
It was an attitude which only the Doctor was privileged to adopt thus
outwardly; but in private it was imitated all up and down the aisles,
where responsible heads of families sat considering the quality of the
manna that was offered them. When it fell from the lips of Mr Finlay the
verdict was, upon the whole, very favourable, as long as there was no
question of comparison with the Doctor.

There could be, indeed, very little question of such comparison