Katie, seated on the opposite side of the fire, had been reading Boston’s _Crook in the Lot_. She seemed not to have heard a word of her husband’s lesson; but her ears drank in the whole of it. The Sergeant had evidently forgotten her presence, so quiet was she, and so absorbed was he with Mary, who was to him a new life--his own child restored. But as Katie caught his last words, she put down her book, and looking almost in anger at her husband--could she have felt jealous of Mary?--said, "Tuts, Adam! what’s the use o’ pitting me and Mary aboot wi’ discoorsin’ in that way! It’s really no’ fair. I declare ane wad think that Andra Wilkie, the bederal, was diggin’ yer grave! What pits deein’ in yer head e’enoo? An’ you an auld sodger! Be cheerie yersel’, man!" "I daursay ye’re richt, gudewife," said Adam, with a smile, and rather a sheepish look, as if he had been caught playing the woman with an unmanly expression of his feelings and dim forebodings. "Gie Mary her piece," he added, "and sen’ her to her bed. She has dune unco weel." He passed into the bedroom, closing the door while Katie was putting Mary to rest. It was a peaceful night. He sat down near the small window of the bedroom, from which was a pleasant peep of trees, their underwood now hid in darkness, but their higher branches, with every leafy twig, mingling with the blue of the starry sky, partially illumined by a new moon. He had felt during these last days an increasing dulness of spirits. But this evening he had been comforting himself while comforting Mary; and remembering the lesson he had given her, he said to himself, "Blessed are all they who put their trust in Thee". And somehow there came into his mind pictures of the old war--times in which, amidst the trampling of armed men and words of command, the sudden rush to the charge or up the scaling-ladder, the roar and cries of combat, the volcano of shot and shell bursting and filling the heavens with flame and smoke and deadly missile, he had trusted God, and felt calm at his heart, like a child in the arms of a loving parent. These pictures flashed on him but for a second, yet they were sufficient to remind him of what God had ever been to him, and to strengthen his faith in what He would ever be. CHAPTER XII ADAM MERCER, SERGEANT, BUT NOT ELDER Next morning the announcement of the Sergeant’s suspension from the eldership was conveyed to him by an official document from Mr. Mackintosh, the Session clerk and parish schoolmaster;--a good, discreet man, who did his duty faithfully, loyally voted always with the minister from an earnest belief that it was right to do so, and who made it his endeavour as a member of society to meddle with nobody, in the good hope that nobody would meddle with him. Every man can find his own place in this wide world.