"Yes; Miller Rotherson came from the low country in the spring, saw the mill, and bought it out of hand. You should hit it off, you and he; many's the time I've sought to save his soul alive, but he always has the one answer. 'Give it up, Mr. Hirst,' says he. 'Some men were made to take religion, as your saying is, and some were not; and there's about the end of it. I don't need it, and I couldn't take it if I tried from now till Doomsday.'" Griff smiled; he recognized a kindred spirit. "Did you ever try to convert the daughter?" he asked, after a pause. Again the preacher flushed, and the lines on his face deepened. "I've been thinking that over, and it seems as though that fit of mine was not a matter of yesterday, nor the day before nor the day before that. It's been coming on a long while, Griff, though I never guessed it till I saw her, winsome as a fairy, paddling in the beck. I _did_ try to convert her, just once; but the words wouldn't come, and when she laughed, with a kind of coo at the tail of her voice, I fell soft and hadn't the heart to upbraid her. Ay, Griff, it's been coming this long while." "And the best thing that has come to you since you were born," cried Lomax, cheerily. "What with the girl, and enough to eat, and a rap over the knuckles now and then from me--for old times' sake, you know--we'll make a moor man of you yet, Gabriel. Do you ever feel the swish of a gale making you drunk?" For a moment the preacher yielded to that storm-suggestion; his whole face lit up, his eyes sparkled. "Yes, drunk. When the heather lies low against the peat, and the rain belches out of the sky--it's almost like freedom at times." "You'll do," growled Lomax. The light went out of Gabriel's eyes. "But it's the old Adam; it has to be beaten under." "I wish you'd let your old Adam alone a bit, Gabriel. He's not half as bad as some who followed him. Come for a ride to-night; the moon is at full, and Lassie is eating her head off in the stable." "Yes, I'll come. It's good to have you back again, Griff." "As good as to be back? I doubt it. I must be off now, anyway, or that mother of mine will be seeking me with a hunting-crop; I promised to take her for a walk this morning. It's a pity about the mill, Gabriel; I used to bathe regularly in the stream, and there is an end of that now; I was coming for a bathe when you ran into me yesterday." "Shall you be going to see Miller Rotherson?" asked Gabriel, wistfully, as they stood at the gate. "Of course, old fellow, if only to give him a helping hand; you're a terrible chap when you set your mind on conversion." "Because if--if you liked me to go with you--I know them, you see." "Yes, I see," smiled Griff. "All right; I'll call for you on the way." The preacher's brow was clouded as he went back through the fading stocks and asters that lined the garden path.