Domsie waved his hand. “The laddies are there, and the twa or three notes 'ill be gotten as afore, but it 'ill no be me that 'ill feenish them.” “What is the meaning of this, Mister Jamieson?” demanded the Doctor sternly, for the woeful dejection of Domsie was telling on him also. “It's been on ma mind for years to retire, an maybe I should hae dune it lang syne; but it was hard on flesh an' blude. I hev taught ma last class, and ye will need to get another Dominie,” and Domsie, who was determined to play the man, made a show of filling his glass, with a shaking hand. “Ye're an Aiberdeenshire man, a ken, though maist fouk hae forgotten that ye're no ain' o' oorsels, but div ye tell me that ye're gain' tae leave us after a' thae years an' a' the bairns ye've educat?” and Drumsheugh grew indignant “Dinna be feared, Drumsheugh, or think me ungrateful. I may gang north tae see ma birthplace aince mair, an' the graves o' ma fouk, an' there's another hoose in Aberdeen I would like tae see, and then I'm comin' back to Drumtochty to live an' dee here among the friends that hev been kind to me.” “This has come suddenly, Domsie, and is a little upsetting,” and Drumsheugh noticed that the Doctor was shaken. “We have worked side by side for a long time, church and school, and I was hoping that there would be no change till--till we both retired altogether; we're about the same age. Can't you think over it--eh, Dominie?” “God kens, Doctor, a dinna lik' the thocht o't, but it's for the gude o' the schule. A'm no hearing sae weel as aince a did, an' ma hands are shakin' in the writin'. The scholars are gettin' their due, for a'm no failin' in humanity (Latin), but the ither bairns are losing their share, and ma day's dune. “Ye'ill just say that a'm retirin' an' thank a' body for their consideration, and, Doctor, a've juist a favour tae ask. Gin a new schule an' maister's hoose be built, will ye lat me get the auld ane; it 'ill no be worth much, an'... I wud like tae end ma days there.” “Whate'er you want, Domsie, and ye 'ill come to the Manse till it be free, and we 'ill have many a night among the classics, but... this is bad news for the Glen, come who may in your place,” and then, though each man did his part bravely, it was a cheerless evening. Next day Domsie left to make his pious pilgrimage, and on the Sabbath there was only one subject in the kirkyard. “Div ye no think, neebours,” said Hillocks, after a tribute had been paid to Domsie's services, “that he oucht tae get some bit testimonial? It wudna be wiselike tae let him slip oot o' the schule withoot a word frae the Glen.” Hillocks paused, but the fathers were so much astonished at Hillocks taking the initiative in expenditure that they waited for further speech.