“‘HE ISN’T MARRIED?’ ASKED BABBIE.”

      “Your congregation tells me. Naebody would lay by news about a minister.”

      “But how do they know?”

      “I dinna ken. They just find out, because they’re so fond o’ you.”

      “I hope they will never become so fond of me as that,” said Babbie. “Still, Nanny, the minister’s cloak is hidden somewhere.”

      “Losh, what would make him hod it?” demanded the old woman. “Folk that has cloaks doesna bury them in boxes.”

      At the word “bury” Gavin’s hand fell on the table, and he returned to Nanny apprehensively.

      “That would depend on how the cloak was got,” said the cruel Egyptian. “If it was not his own——”

      “Lassie,” cried Nanny, “behave yoursel’.”

      “Or if he found it in his possession against his will?” suggested Gavin, slyly. “He might have got it from some one who picked it up cheap.”

      “From his wife, for instance,” said Babbie, whereupon Gavin suddenly became interested in the floor.

      “Ay, ay, the minister was hitting at you there, Babbie,” Nanny explained, “for the way you made off wi’ the captain’s cloak. The Thrums folk wondered less at your taking it than at your no keeping it. It’s said to be michty grand.”

      “It was rather like the one the minister’s wife gave him,” said Babbie.

      “The minister has neither a wife nor a cloak,” retorted Nanny.

      “He isn’t married?” asked Babbie, the picture of incredulity.

      Nanny gathered from the minister’s face that he deputed to her the task of enlightening this ignorant girl, so she replied with emphasis, “Na, they hinna got him yet, and I’m cheated if it doesna tak them all their time.”

      Thus do the best of women sell their sex for nothing.

      “I did wonder,” said the Egyptian, gravely, “at any mere woman’s daring to marry such a minister.”

      “Ay,” replied Nanny, spiritedly, “but there’s dauring limmers wherever there’s a single man.”

      “So I have often suspected,” said Babbie, duly shocked. “But, Nanny, I was told the minister had a wife, by one who said he saw her.”

      “He lied, then,” answered Nanny turning to Gavin for further instructions.

      “But, see, the minister does not deny the horrid charge himself.”

      “No, and for the reason he didna deny the cloak: because it’s no worth his while. I’ll tell you wha your friend had seen. It would be somebody that would like to be Mrs. Dishart. There’s a hantle o’ that kind. Ay, lassie, but wishing winna land a woman in a manse.”

      “It was one of the soldiers,” Babbie said, “who told me about her. He said Mr. Dishart introduced her to him.”

      “Sojers!” cried Nanny. “I could never thole the name o’ them. Sanders in his young days hankered after joining them, and so he would, if it hadna been for the fechting. Ay, and now they’ve ta’en him awa to the gaol, and sworn lies about him. Dinna put any faith in sojers, lassie.”

      “I was told,” Babbie went on, “that the minister’s wife was rather like me.”

      “Heaven forbid!” ejaculated Nanny, so fervently that all three suddenly sat back from the table.

      “I’m no meaning,” Nanny continued hurriedly, fearing to offend her benefactress, “but what you’re the bonniest tid I ever saw out o’ an almanack. But you would ken Mr. Dishart’s contempt for bonny faces if you had heard his sermon against them. I didna hear it mysel’, for I’m no Auld Licht, but it did the work o’ the town for an aucht days.”

      If Nanny had not taken her eyes off Gavin for the moment she would have known that he was now anxious to change the topic. Babbie saw it, and became suspicious.

      “When did he preach against the wiles of women, Nanny?”

      “It was long ago,” said Gavin, hastily.

      “No so very lang syne,” corrected Nanny. “It was the Sabbath after the sojers was in Thrums; the day you changed your text so hurriedly. Some thocht you wasna weel, but Lang Tammas——”

      “Thomas Whamond is too officious,” Gavin said with dignity. “I forbid you, Nanny, to repeat his story.”

      “But what made you change your text?” asked Babbie.

      “You see he winna tell,” Nanny said, wistfully. “Ay, I dinna deny but what I would like richt to ken. But the session’s as puzzled as yoursel’, Babbie.”

      “Perhaps more puzzled,” answered the Egyptian, with a smile that challenged Gavin’s frowns to combat and overthrow them. “What surprises me, Mr. Dishart, is that such a great man can stoop to see whether women are pretty or not. It was very good of you to remember me to-day. I suppose you recognized me by my frock?”

      “By your face,” he replied, boldly; “by your eyes.”

      “Nanny,” exclaimed the Egyptian, “did you hear what the minister said?”

      “Woe is me,” answered Nanny, “I missed it.”

      “He says he would know me anywhere by my eyes.”

      “So would I mysel’,” said Nanny.

      “Then what colour are they, Mr. Dishart?” demanded Babbie. “Don’t speak, Nanny, for I want to expose him.”

      She closed her eyes tightly. Gavin was in a quandary. I suppose he had looked at her eyes too long to know much about them.

      “Blue,” he guessed at last.

      “Na, they’re black,” said Nanny, who had doubtless known this for an hour. I am always marvelling over the cleverness of women, as every one must see who reads this story.

      “No but what they micht be blue in some lichts,” Nanny added, out of respect to the minister.

      “Oh, don’t defend him, Nanny,” said Babbie, looking reproachfully at Gavin. “I don’t see that any minister has a right to denounce women when he is so ignorant of his subject. I will say it, Nanny, and you need not kick me beneath the table.”

      Was not all this