Farquharson’s quasi-official position was on one occasion the cause of rather an unpleasant experience.  One of his predecessors in office, an old man named McConnachie, had been forced to retire from the teaching profession on account of failing intellect.  After an illness, when he was already far advanced in years, his mind gradually gave way, until he was nothing better than a harmless lunatic.  No one grudged the old man a little oatmeal or a bag of potatoes now and again, and he could get milk for the asking from any of those who owned a cow.  He lived all by himself in a small house, and a kindly neighbor would go in occasionally to “redd up”—­in other words, put the place in order.

But the poor old fellow’s lunacy became less harmless as he grew older.  It developed into a kind of kleptomania.  Should a housewife have a family wash hanging on her clothes-lines, it was not infrequently the case that many of the articles would mysteriously disappear.  The most extraordinary objects would vanish from the houses—­chimney ornaments, cups, spoons, flatirons, buttons, photographs, and such like gear.  For a time no one suspected old McConnachie; though, upon reflection, after the matter had been cleared up it appeared that many of the losers had missed articles after one of his calls.  When a venturous spirit undertook to search the old man’s habitation during his absence, a store of miscellaneous objects came to light, which revealed the hitherto unknown pilferer.

In another way, too, McConnachie became a nuisance to the community.  Perhaps some faint recollection of one of his duties as “Dominie” may have led to it; but he began to show so violent a dislike toward any of the children who might cross his path that he would do his best to give them a good drubbing with his stick.  In the case of the more simple he sometimes succeeded in seizing hold before the child had attempted to escape his clutches, and in giving the unfortunate culprit a good reason for flying home in tears to exhibit to an angry mother the marks of “t’ auld schulemaister’s wand!”

Under such circumstances it became necessary to take counsel with the Inspector of the Poor with a view to getting McConnachie placed under restraint.  Matters were easily settled and a time fixed for his deportation to the County Asylum.

But though the old fellow was mad enough in some respects, he was sharp enough in others!  It required diplomacy to get him to leave his home and undertake a journey even in the conveyance which the Inspector had promised to provide to take him to the railway station some miles away.  Farquharson, on account of his office, was the only person in the community who was on terms of cordiality with McConnachie; for the old man had a great idea of his position in Ardmuirland, and held himself somewhat above the common run of people.  With Farquharson he could converse as with one who was almost an equal—­not absolutely,