‘I cannot just say it would mak’ up for things. We have no merits of our own, ye ken. They are all but filthy rags. But it’s a grand idea, and well worth tryin’!’ This was not the solid encouragement for which Mr. Lindsay had hoped. ‘It will doubtless redound to your credit, and win ye an increase of glory,’ said the minister again, noticing his penitent’s disappointed look. The sick man sighed. He would have been satisfied at that moment if he could have felt certain of a very moderate share of glory. ‘You think so?’ he asked anxiously. ‘I am certain of it.’ ‘Then I’ll do it!’ exclaimed the old man, striking his fist on the bedclothes. ‘I’ll send for a lawyer the first thing in the morning. How do you think it should be left?’ ‘I would vest it in trustees, for the general purposes of the Church, to be used at their discretion.’ ‘Very well. Will you be one of the trustees?’ Dr. Mackenzie was prepared for this question, and he had already decided to decline the honour. He did not see how even the smallest pecuniary benefit would flow to him from accepting it. ‘I think I would rather not,’ he replied. ‘One should always appoint young men as trustees. But, if you have no objection, I would consent to be secretary to the trust. If you were to mention my name in the will, now, just recommending me to the trustees as their secretary, I would really be much obliged.’ ‘I’ll do that,’ said Mr. Lindsay. He quite understood the minister’s reasons for choosing the humbler post, and thought none the less of his friend for this display of prudence. ‘Of course you’ll stop here as long as you can; it will be a comfort to me. I’ll tell Miss Lindsay to get your room ready.’ Dr. Mackenzie said that he would, and reflected, as he went downstairs, that it would be a comfort to himself to stay till the will was duly executed. In the library he found Alec, who often found his way to Claremont Gardens on a Sunday morning, partly because it was an excuse to himself for not going to church alone, partly because there was always a chance that he might be able to accompany Miss Lindsay and Laura to some place of worship. On this occasion he had been disappointed. No one had stirred out since the morning; and he was idly turning over the pages of the _Saturday Review_ when the minister entered the room. ‘I believe you are Dr. Mackenzie,’ said Alec, getting up and holding out his hand. ‘Yes. I don’t remember to have had----’ ‘Oh, it was I who wrote and asked you to come.’ ‘Ah! just so. You have not gone to church to-day, Mr. Alexander.’ ‘No,’ returned Alec shortly, returning to his seat. ‘Whom do you generally sit under in London? Dr. Bruce? or Mr. Martin?’ ‘Neither. I sometimes go to St. Paul’s, oftener to Westminster Abbey.’ Dr. Mackenzie frowned heavily. ‘Is the Gospel preached there, Mr. Alexander?’ he said in a tone that was meant to be one of deep solemnity. ‘I really can’t say. I suppose so.’ ‘You go chiefly for the music, perhaps.’