"That was a terrible time," Mrs. Douglas said. "Mark was four, and beginning to get stronger. You were a year old, Ann. It was a lovely day in June, and Mr. Kerr, in the kindness of his heart, sent a carriage to take us all for a drive." "I mind fine o' Mr. Kerr," Marget broke in. "He was fair bigoted on the kirk. I dinna think he ever missed a Sabbath's service or a Wednesday prayer-meeting." "I mind of him, too," said Ann. "He had white hair and bushy white eyebrows, and a fierce expression and an ebony stick with an ivory handle. He used to give Mark presents at Christmas time, but he ignored the existence of the rest of us. I remember we went to see him once, and he presented Mark with a book. Mark took it and said, 'Yes, and what for Ann?' and Mr. Kerr had to fumble about and produce something for me while I waited stolidly, quite unabashed by my brother's unconventional behaviour." "Mr. Kerr was the best friend the Kirkcaple Church had," Mrs. Douglas said. "He 'joyed' in its prosperity--how he struggled to get the members to increase their givings. His great desire was that it should give more largely than the parish kirk of the district. People may talk about union and one great Church, but when we are all one I'm afraid there may be a lack of interest--a falling off in endeavour. St. Paul knew what he was talking about when he spoke of 'provoking' one another to love and good works.... At first I couldn't bear Mr. Kerr. If I let your father forget an intimation, or if a funeral was forgotten, or someone was neglected, he came to the Manse in a passion. I fled at the sight of him. But gradually I found that his fierceness wasn't to be feared, and that it was the sheer interest he took that made him hate things to go wrong--and one is grateful to people who take a real interest, however oddly they may show it." "So Mr. Kerr sent his carriage," Ann prompted.