An almost imperceptible smile played about his mouth. He glanced at Mona, and found her eyes fixed on his face; but she looked away instantly. She would not be guilty of the disloyalty to Rachel involved in the subtlest voluntary glance of comprehension; but her face was a very eloquent one, and his short-sighted eyes were quick. "_Que diable allait-elle faire dans cette galère?_" he thought. "My dear," said Rachel to Mona, in that mysterious tone invariably assumed by some people when they speak of things sacred, "we always have the Communion after the morning service. Were you meaning to stay?" "You would not have me, would you?" "You'd wonder." Rachel raised her voice. "We're very wide. Mr Stuart has got into trouble with several other ministers in the Union for his liberality. He says he will turn away no man who is a converted Christian." Dr Dudley's eyes sparkled. "I should have thought a converted pagan would be even dearer to Stuart's heart." "So he would, so he would, doctor. You know what I mean. Mr Stuart says the simple name Christian is not sufficient nowadays, because so many folks who call themselves by that name fight shy of the word 'converted.'" Again Dr Dudley glanced at Mona, but this time she was on her guard. "I think it is one of the grandest words I know," she said proudly, looking straight in front of her. "But I think I won't stay to-day, dear, thank you. Shall I wait for you?" "Please yourself, my dear, please yourself. There's always quite a party of us walks home together." They had entered the quaint old town, and were greeted by a strong smell of fish and of sea-weed, as they descended a steep angular street to the shore. Here a single row of uneven shops and tenements faced the harbour, alive to-day with the rich tints and picturesque outlines of well-patched canvas sails; and brown-faced, flaxen-haired babies basked on the flags at the mouths of the closes. A solitary gig was rattling over the stones, with a noise and stir quite disproportionate to its size and importance; and the natives, Bible in hand, were quietly discussing the last haul of herring on their way to the kirk. Rachel led the way up another steep little hill, away from the sea; and they entered the dark, narrow, sunless street, where the chapel stood in well-to-do simplicity, opposite a large and odoriferous tannery.