"Amen," said Adam. After a minute of silence, Mr. Porteous cleared his throat and said, "I am glad to tell you, Mr. Mercer, that the Session have unanimously restored you to the office of elder." The Sergeant started, and looked puzzled and pained, as if remembering "a dream within a dream". "Unanimously and heartily," continued Mr. Porteous; "and when you are better, we shall talk over this business as friends, though it need never be mentioned more. Hitherto, in your weakness, I requested those who could have communicated the news to you not to do so, in case it might agitate you: besides, I wished to have the pleasure of telling it to you myself. I shall say no more, except that I give you full credit for acting up to your light, or, let me say, according to the feelings of your kind heart, which I respect. Let me give you the right hand of fellowship." A few quiet drops trickled down Adam’s pale cheek, as in silence he stretched out his feeble and trembling hand, accepting that of his minister. The minister grasped it cordially, and then gazed up to the roof, his shaggy eyebrows working up and down as if they were pumping tears out of his eyes, and sending them back again to his heart. Katie sat with covered face, not in sorrow as of yore, but in gratitude too deep for words. "Will ye tak’ a snuff, sir?" said Jock Hall, as with flushed face he offered his tin box to the minister. "When I fish the Eastwater, I’ll sen’ ye as bonnie a basketfu’ as ever ye seed, for yer kindness to the Sergeant; and ye needna wunner muckle if ye see me in the kirk wi’ him sune." The starling, for some unaccountable reason, was hopping from spar to spar of his cage, as if leaping for a wager. Mary, attracted by the bird, and supposing him to be hungry, mounted a chair, and noiselessly opened the door of the cage. But in her eagerness and suppressed excitement she forgot the food. As she descended for it, the starling found the door open, and stood at it for a moment bowing to the company. He then flew out, and, lighting on the shoulder of the Sergeant, looked round the happy group, fluttered his feathers, gazed on the minister steadily, and uttered in his clearest tones, "I’m Charlie’s bairn--’A man’s a man for a’ that!’" * * * * * Perhaps some of the readers of this village story, in their summer holidays, may have fished the streams flowing through the wide domain of Castle Bennock, under the guidance of the sedate yet original underkeeper, John Hall; and may have "put up" at the neat and comfortable country inn, the "Bennock Arms", kept by John Spence and his comely wife Mary Semple--the one working the farm, and the other managing the house and her numerous and happy family. If so, they cannot fail to have noticed the glass case in the parlour, enclosing a stuffed Starling, with this inscription under it-- "I’M CHARLIE’S BAIRN".