The coals in the grate shot up a sudden brilliant flame that eclipsed
the soft light of the candles and set strange shadows quivering about
the huge bed and wardrobe and the dark rosewood tables. The winsome
young woman at her play, and the old dame living back in a tale that was
long since told, exchanged nods and smiles at the thought of the
handsome visitor in his green coat. The whisper of the aged voice came
blithely--

'Ay, he is that, Jeanie Trim; as handsome a man as ever trod!'

The maid rose, and passing out observed the discarded basin of broth.

'What's this?' she said. 'Ye'll no be able to see Mr. Kinnaird to-morrow
if ye don't take yer soup the night.'

'Gie it to me, Jeanie Trim; I thought he wasna coming again when I said
I wouldna.'

The nurse slipped out of the shadow of the wardrobe and went out to tell
that the soup was being eaten.

'Kinnaird,' repeated the minister meditatively. 'I never heard my aunt
speak the name.'

'Kinnaird,' repeated the daughters; and they too searched in their
memories.

'I can remember my grandfather and my grandmother--the married daughter
spoke incredulously--'there was never a gentleman called Kinnaird that