He ran his eyes over the text at the head of his sermon with a look of doubt in them, and while doing so his hand unconsciously stole to the corner of his table, where a brown cherry-wood pipe lay snugly on a fur tobacco-bag. The touch of his fingers against the satin surface of the wood aroused him in a moment to a sense of what he was about to do. He looked at his outstretched hand, the pipe held between his fingers, and then burst out laughing. A moment after his face became grave. "The sparrow was not allowed to fall this time, at any rate," he said, as he put down the pipe and lifted up a small Bible. He turned to the chapter whence he had taken his text, and read it attentively to the end. He went on to the next chapter. It was that in which St. Paul lectures the Corinthians on their conjugal duties. John Galbraith read this slowly, his eyebrows now and then contracting into a slight frown. While he read the face of Halsa Lamport seemed to come between him and the pages, and unseen lips to murmur her name in his ears. There was no use in resisting any longer. In fact, he had never made any resistance, but from the time of Mrs. Bunny's speech mentally associated the widow in all his actions; perhaps, too, the defects in his domestic arrangements had their effect, although he may not have been conscious of the full extent of the power. "I'll risk it," he said, with sudden resolution, as he pulled a piece of writing paper toward himself and seized a pen. But it was easier said than done, and John ran through a good dozen sheets before he decided on what to say. What he did say was this. He wrote to Halsa Lamport asking for an interview that day as he had that to tell her which was of the greatest importance to himself. The note was very brief, and contained nothing more. He folded and addressed the letter as Manuel came in to announce breakfast. Manuel had smartened himself up. He had on a clean white linen jacket. His hair was more resplendent than ever. Galbraith felt that breakfast was out of the question. He was feverishly eager now for the time to come when he should see Halsa, and hear from her "ay" or "nay." "I don't think I'll have any breakfast to-day; and look here, Manuel, take this note to Mr. Bunny's house, and give it to Mrs. Lamport. Bring the answer back before I go to church." Now the Bunnys lived some little distance away from the Manse, and Manuel was not fond of walking. He tried to put off the evil hour by an affectation of concern. He took the note from Galbraith, and said-- "Yessar--master not ill?" "No--no," replied Galbraith; "take the note at once, please." "Fry pomflit for breakfas, sar," said Manuel, "and prong curry--all spile." "Never mind, Manuel--we'll have some another day. Take that letter and--run."