“Piggie Walker cam up on Monday” (Hillocks seemed to be addressing some person above Burnbrae's head), “and he wes tellin' me they hed a by-ordinar' sermon frae the student. 'A wished Burnbrae hed been there,' Piggie said; 'he wes boond tae be lifted. He 'ill sune hae a kirk, yon lad, an' a gude ane.' Piggie's a body, but he's coonted the best jidge o' sermons in Kildrummie.” Drumsheugh alone did not join in those kindly efforts, but struck out a manner of his own, chuckling twice without relevancy, and once growing so red that Hillocks ran over his family history to estimate the risk of a “seizure.” “Is that you, Burnbrae? Come in, man; come in. It's a pleasure to see a Drumtochty face again after those foreign fellows,” and Lord Kilspindie gripped his tenant's hand in the factor's office. “Sit down and give me all your news. “Th 'ill be no speaking to Mrs. Baxter now after this exploit of the Sergeant's! When I read it on my way home I was as proud as if he had been my own son. It was a gallant deed, and well deserves the Cross. He 'ill be getting his commission some day. Lieutenant Baxter! That 'ill stir the Glen, eh? “But what is this I hear of your leaving Burnbrae? I don't like losing old tenants, and I thought you would be the last to flit.” “Did the factor not tell you, my Lord----” “I 've only seen him for five minutes, and he said it had nothing to do with rent; it was some religious notion or other. Is that so?” “The fairm is worth thirty pund mair rent, an' a' wud hae paid saxty rather than leave my auld hame; but the factor made it a condeetion tae gie up ma kirk.” “Well, Burnbrae, I never thought you would have left me for a matter of kirks. Could you not have stretched a point for auld lang syne?” and Kilspindie looked hard at the old man. “Ma Lord, there's naething a' wudna hae dune to stay in Burnbrae but this ae thing. Ye hae been a gude landlord tae me as the auld Earl wes tae ma father, an' it 'ill never be the same tae me again on anither estate; but ye maunna ask me tae gang back on ma conscience.” The tears came to Burnbrae's eyes, and he rose to his feet. “A' thocht,” he said, “when yir message cam, that maybe ye hed anither mind than yir factor, and wud send me back tae Jean wi' guid news in ma mooth. “Gin it be yir wull that we flit, a 'll mak nae mair complaint, an' there's nae bitterness in ma hert. But a' wud like ye tae ken that it 'ill be a sair pairtin'. “For twa hundred years an' mair there's been a Baxter at Burnbrae and a Hay at Kilspindie; ane wes juist a workin' farmer, an' the ither a belted earl, but gude freends an' faithfu', an' ma Lord, Burnbrae wes as dear tae oor fouk as the castle wes tae yours. “A' mind that day the Viscount cam o' age, an' we gaithered tae wush him weel, that a' saw the pictures o' the auld Hays on yir walls, an' thocht hoo mony were the ties that bund ye tae yir hame.