“Na, my lady,” I replied, with my best bow; “I come to you in mickle fear lest the grace of God be barred out of the poor parish of Rowantree.”

So I opened out to her the whole state of the case; and though at first she seemed to be amused rather than edified, she gave me her promise that young William Campbell, who was presently assistant to the great Dr. Shirmers, of St. John’s in the city, should get the kirk of Rowantree.  He was not a drop’s blood to me, though him and my wife were far-out friends, so that it was not as if I had been asking anything for myself.  Yet I thanked her ladyship warmly for her promise in the name of all the godly in the parish of Rowantree, and warned her at the same time of the regardless clan that were seeking to abuse her good-nature.  But I need not have troubled, for I was but at the door and Crophead sulkily showing me out, when whom should I meet fair in the teeth but Bauldy Todd and all his fighting tail!

Never were men more taken aback.  They stopped dead where they were, when they saw me; and Bauldy, who had one hand in the air, having been laying down the law, as was usual with him, kept it there stiff as if he had been frozen where he stood.

Now I never let on that I saw any of them, but went by them with my briskest town step and my head in the air, whistling like a lintie—­

  “The Campbells are coming, aha! aha! 
  The Campbells are coming, aha! aha! 
  The Campbells are coming to bonnie Loch Leven! 
  The Campbells are coming, aha! aha!”

“Deil burn me,” cried Bauldy Todd, “but the Dominie has done us!”

“’Deed, he was like to do that ony gate,” said Mickie Andrew.  “We may as weel gang hame, lads.  I ken the Dominie.  His tongue wad wile the bird aff the tree.  We hae come the day after the fair, boys.”

But as for me, I never turned a hair; only keeped my nose in the straight of my face, and went by them down the street as though I had been the strength of a regiment marching with pipers, whistling all the time at my refrain—­

  “The Campbells are coming to bonnie Loch Leven! 
  The Campbells are coming, aha! aha!”

VII

THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

  Hard is it, O my friends, to gather up
      A whole life’s goodness into narrow space—­
      A life made Heaven-meet by patient grace,
  And handling oft the sacramental cup

  Of sorrow, drinking all the bitter drains. 
      Her life she kept most sacred from the world;
      Though, Martha-wise, much cumber’d and imperill’d
  With service, Mary-like she brought her pains,

  And laid them and herself low at the feet,
      The travel-weary, deep-scarr’d feet, of Him
          The incarnate Good, who oft in Galilee

  Had borne Himself the burden and the heat—­
      Ah! couldst thou bear, thy tender eyes were dim
          With humble tears to think this meant for thee!