tall young fellow got out and looked toward the lighted window.

"Oh, boy! He's going in!" gasped Jim, slapping his companion silently
on the back. "Whatt'll Mr. Severn think, Tommy?"

"It'll do the fresh laddie gude," quoth Tom, a trifle abashed but ready
to stand by his guns, "I'm thenkin' he's one of them what feels they
owns the airth, an' is bound to step on all worms of the dust whut
comes in thur wy. But Jim, mon, we better be steppin' on, fer tomorra's
the Sawbeth ya ken, an' it wuddent be gude for our souls if the parson
shud cum out to investigate." Chuckling away into the silent street
they disappeared, while Laurence Shafton stalked angrily up the little
path and pounded loudly on the quaint knocker of the parsonage.

* * * * *

The minister was on his knees beside his desk, praying for the soul of
the wandering lad who had been dear to him for years. He had finished
his preparation for the coming day, and his heart was full of a great
longing. As he poured out his desire he forgot the hour and his need
for rest. It was often in such companionship he forgot all else. He was
that kind of a man.

But he came to his feet on the instant with the knock, and was ready to
go out on any errand of mercy that was needing him. It was not an
unusual thing for a knock to come interrupting his midnight devotions.
Sometimes the call would be to go far out on the mountain to some one
who was in distress, or dying.

The minister swung the door wide and peered into the night pleasantly