With equal solemnity the stranger declared that though not an unusually good man himself, this solution had already struck him forcibly. At this point the minister became conscious of the distant ringing of a bell, and recognised with a start the strident note of his own dinner bell swung with a vigorous arm somewhere in the road ahead. He shook hands cordially with the stranger, thanked him for the very interesting talk he had enjoyed, and hurried off towards his over-cooked roast. The stranger remained for a few moments still leaning against the parapet. His jovial face had been wreathed in smiles throughout the whole conversation; he still smiled now, but with rather a different expression. II. THE CHAUFFEUR. Mr Burnett was somewhat slow in coming to decisions, but once he had taken an idea to do a thing he generally carried it out. In the course of a week or ten days he had presented himself as a candidate for the vacant church of Myredale, and made arrangements for appearing in the pulpit there on a certain Sunday in August. He was to arrive in the islands on the Thursday, spend the week-end in the empty manse, preach on Sunday, and return on Monday or Tuesday. His old friend Mr Drummond in Edinburgh, hearing of the plan, invited him to break his journey at his house, arriving on Tuesday afternoon, and going on by the North train on Wednesday night. Accordingly, he arranged to have a trap at the manse on Tuesday afternoon, drive to Berwick and catch the Scotch express, getting into Edinburgh at 6.15. He was a reticent man, and in any case had few neighbours to gossip with, so that as far as he himself knew, the Drummonds alone had been informed of all these details. But he had in the manse a very valuable domestic, who added to her more ordinary virtues a passion for conversation. On the Saturday afternoon before he was due to start, he was returning from a walk, when he caught a glimpse of a man's figure disappearing into a small pine wood at the back of his house, and when his invaluable Mary brought him in his tea, he inquired who her visitor had been. "Oh, sic a nice young felly!" said Mary enthusiastically. "He's been a soger, wounded at Mons he was, and walking to Berwick to look for a job." Though simple, the minister was not without some sad experience of human nature, particularly the nature of wounded heroes, tramping the country for jobs. "I hope you didn't give him any money," said he. "He never askit for money!" cried Mary. "Oh, he was not that kind at a'! A maist civil young chap he was, and maist interested to hear where you were gaun, and sic like." The minister shook his head. "You told him when I was leaving, and all about it, I suppose?" "There was nae secret, was there?" demanded Mary. Mr Burnett looked at her seriously.