Miss Thomasina Porteous, in the absence of the servant, who was "on leave" for a day or two, opened the door to the Sergeant. Mr. Porteous was in his study, popularly so called,--a small room, with a book-press at one end, and a table in the centre, with a desk on it, a volume of _Matthew Henry’s Commentary_, _Cruden’s Concordance_, an _Edinburgh Almanac_, and a few _Reports_. Beside the table, and near the fire, was an arm-chair, in which the minister sat reading a volume of sermons. No sooner was the Sergeant announced than Mr. Porteous rose, looked over his spectacles, hesitated, and at last shook hands, as if with an icicle, or in conformity with Act of Parliament. Then, motioning Mr. Mercer to a seat, he begged to inquire to what he owed this call, accompanying the questioning with a hint to Thomasina to leave the room. The Sergeant’s first feeling was that he had made a great mistake, and he wished he had never left the army. "Well, Mr. Mercer?" inquired the minister, as he sat opposite to the Sergeant. "I am sorry to disturb you, sir," replied the Sergeant, "but I wished to say that I think I was too hot and hasty this afternoon in the Session." "Pray don’t apologise to _me_, Mr. Mercer," said the minister. "Whatever you have to say on that point, had better be said publicly before the Kirk Session. Anything else?" The Sergeant wavered, as military historians would say, before this threatened opposition, as if suddenly met by a square of bristling bayonets. "Well, then," he at last said, "I wish to tell you frankly, and in as few words as possible, what no human being kens but my wife. I never blame ignorance, and I’m no gaun to blame yours, Mr. Porteous, but----" "_My_ ignorance!" exclaimed the minister. "It’s come to a pretty pass indeed, if _you_ are to blame it, or remove it! Ignorance of what, pray?" "Your ignorance, Mr. Porteous," continued the Sergeant, "on a point which I should have made known to you, and for which I alone and not you are in faut." The minister seemed relieved by this admission. The Sergeant forthwith told the story of the starling as the playmate of his child, the history of whose sickness and death was already known to Mr. Porteous; and having concluded, he said, "That’s the reason, sir, why I couldna kill the bird. I wadna tell this to ony man but to yersel’, for it’s no’ my fashion tae sen’ the drum aboot the toon for pity or for sympathy; but I wish _you_, sir, to ken what’s fac, for yer ain guidance and the guidance o’ the Session." "I remember your boy well," remarked Mr. Porteous, handing his snuff-box in a very kindly way to his visitor. The Sergeant nodded. "Ye did _your_ duty, minister, to us on that occasion, or I wadna have come here the nicht. I kent ye wad like onything Charlie was fond o’." "I quite understand your feelings, Sergeant, and sympathise with them."