"It may hold over to-morrow," Mr. Duthie admitted; "but to- morrow's the Sabbath, and so a lost day." "A what?" exclaimed Gavin, horrified. "I only mean," Mr. Duthie answered, colouring, "that we can't curl on the Lord's day. As for what it may be like on Monday, no one can say. No, doctor, I won't risk it. We're in the middle of a game, man." Gavin looked very grave. "I see what you are thinking, Mr. Dishart," the old minister said doggedly; "but then, you don't curl. You are very wise. I have forbidden my sons to curl." "Then you openly snap your fingers at your duty, Mr. Duthie?" said the doctor, loftily. ("You can let go my tails now, Mr. Dishart, for the madness has passed.") "None of your virtuous airs, McQueen," said Mr. Duthie, hotly. "What was the name of the doctor that warned women never to have bairns while it was hauding?" "And what," retorted McQueen, "was the name of the minister that told his session he would neither preach nor pray while the black frost lasted?" "Hoots, doctor," said Duthie, "don't lose your temper because I'm in such form." "Don't lose yours, Duthie, because I aye beat you." "You beat me, McQueen! Go home, sir, and don't talk havers. Who beat you at--" "Who made you sing small at--" "Who won--" "Who--" "Who--" "I'll play you on Monday for whatever you like!" shrieked the doctor. "If it holds," cried the minister, "I'll be here the whole day. Name the stakes yourself. A stone?" "No," the doctor said, "but I'll tell you what we'll play for. You've been dinging me doited about that eldership, and we'll play for't. If you win I accept office." "Done," said the minister, recklessly. The dog-cart was now turned toward Windyghoul, its driver once more good-humoured, but Gavin silent. "You would have been the better of my deaf ear just now, Mr. Dishart," McQueen said after the loch had been left behind. "Aye, and I'm thinking my pipe would soothe you. But don't take it so much to heart, man. I'll lick him easily. He's a decent man, the minister, but vain of his play, ridiculously vain. However, I think the sight of you, in the place that should have been his, has broken his nerve for this day, and our side may win yet." "I believe," Gavin said, with sudden enlightenment, "that you brought me here for that purpose." "Maybe," chuckled the doctor; "maybe." Then he changed the subject suddenly. "Mr. Dishart," he asked, "were you ever in love?" "Never!" answered Gavin violently. "Well, well," said the doctor, "don't terrify the horse. I have been in love myself. It's bad, but it's nothing to curling." CHAPTER XII. TRAGEDY OF A MUD HOUSE.