CHAPTER XXX.

THE MEETING FOR RAIN.

Meanwhile the Auld Lichts were in church, waiting for their

minister, and it was a full meeting, because nearly every well in

Thrums had been scooped dry by anxious palms. Yet not all were

there to ask God's rain for themselves. Old Charles Yuill was in

his pew, after dreaming thrice that he would break up with the

drought; and Bell Christison had come, though her man lay dead at

home, and she thought it could matter no more to her how things

went in the world.

You, who do not love that little congregation, would have said

that they were waiting placidly. But probably so simple a woman as

Meggy Rattray could have deceived you into believing that because

her eyes were downcast she did not notice who put the three-penny-

bit in the plate. A few men were unaware that the bell was working

overtime, most of them farmers with their eyes on the windows, but

all the women at least were wondering. They knew better, however,

than to bring their thoughts to their faces, and none sought to

catch another's eye. The men-folk looked heavily at their hats in

the seats in front. Even when Hendry Munn, instead of marching to

the pulpit with the big Bible in his hands, came as far as the

plate and signed to Peter Tosh, elder, that he was wanted in the

vestry, you could not have guessed how every woman there, except

Bell Christison, wished she was Peter Tosh. Peter was so taken

aback that he merely gaped at Hendry, until suddenly he knew that

his five daughters were furious with him, when he dived for his

hat and staggered to the vestry with his mouth open. His boots

cheeped all the way, but no one looked up.

"I hadna noticed the minister was lang in coming," Waster Lunny

told me afterward, "but Elspeth noticed it, and with a quickness

that baffles me she saw I was thinking o' other things. So she let

out her foot at me. I gae a low cough to let her ken I wasna

sleeping, but in a minute out goes her foot again. Ay, syne I

thocht I micht hae dropped my hanky into Snecky Hobart's pew, but

no, it was in my tails. Yet her hand was on the board, and she was

working her fingers in a way that I kent meant she would like to

shake me. Next I looked to see if I was sitting on her frock, the

which tries a woman sair, but I wasna, 'Does she want to change

Bibles wi' me?' I wondered; 'or is she sliding yont a peppermint

to me?' It was neither, so I edged as far frae her as I could

gang. Weel, would you credit it, I saw her body coming nearer me

inch by inch, though she was looking straucht afore her, till she

was within kick o' me, and then out again goes her foot. At that,

dominie, I lost patience, and I whispered, fierce-like, 'Keep your

foot to yoursel', you limmer!' Ay, her intent, you see, was to

waken me to what was gaen on, but I couldna be expected to ken

that."

In the vestry Hendry Munn was now holding counsel with three

elders, of whom the chief was Lang Tammas.

"The laddie I sent to the manse," Hendry said, "canna be back this

five minutes, and the question is how we're to fill up that time.

I'll ring no langer, for the bell has been in a passion ever since

a quarter-past eight. It's as sweer to clang past the quarter as a

horse to gallop by its stable."

"You could gang to your box and gie out a psalm, Tammas,"

suggested John Spens.

"And would a psalm sung wi' sic an object," retorted the

precentor, "mount higher, think you, than a bairn's kite? I'll

insult the Almighty to screen no minister."

"You're screening him better by standing whaur you are," said the

imperturbable Hendry; "for as lang as you dinna show your face

they'll think it may be you that's missing instead o' Mr.

Dishart."

Indeed, Gavin's appearance in church without the precentor would

have been as surprising as Tammas's without the minister. As

certainly as the shutting of a money-box is followed by the

turning of the key, did the precentor walk stiffly from the vestry

to his box a toll of the bell in front of the minister. Tammas's

halfpenny rang in the plate as Gavin passed T'nowhead's pew, and

Gavin's sixpence with the snapping-to of the precentor's door. The

two men might have been connected by a string that tightened at

ten yards.

"The congregation ken me ower weel," Tammas said, "to believe I

would keep the Lord waiting."

"And they are as sure o' Mr. Dishart," rejoined Spens, with

spirit, though he feared the precentor on Sabbaths and at prayer-

meetings. "You're a hard man."

"I speak the blunt truth," Whamond answered.

"Ay," said Spens, "and to tak' credit for that may be like blawing

that you're ower honest to wear claethes."

Hendry, who had gone to the door, returned now with the

information that Mr. Dishart had left the manse two hours ago to

pay visits, meaning to come to the prayer-meeting before he

returned home.

"There's a quirk in this, Hendry," said Tosh. "Was it Mistress

Dishart the laddie saw?"

"No," Hendry replied. "It was Jean. She canna get to the meeting

because the mistress is nervous in the manse by herself; and Jean

didna like to tell her that he's missing, for fear o' alarming

her. What are we to do now?"

"He's an unfaithful shepherd," cried the precentor, while Hendry

again went out. "I see it written on the walls."

"I dinna," said Spens doggedly.

"Because," retorted Tammas, "having eyes you see not."

"Tammas, I aye thocht you was fond o' Mr. Dishart."

"If my right eye were to offend me," answered the precentor. "I

would pluck it out. I suppose you think, and baith o' you farmers

too, that there's no necessity for praying for rain the nicht?

You'll be content, will ye, if Mr. Dishart just drops in to the

kirk some day, accidental-like, and offers up a bit prayer?"

"As for the rain," Spens said, triumphantly, "I wouldna wonder

though it's here afore the minister. You canna deny, Peter Tosh,

that there's been a smell o' rain in the air this twa hours back."

"John," Peter said agitatedly, "dinna speak so confidently. I've

kent it," he whispered, "since the day turned; but it wants to

tak' us by surprise, lad, and so I'm no letting on."

"See that you dinna make an idol o' the rain," thundered Whamond.

"Your thochts is no wi' Him, but wi' the clouds; and, whaur your

thochts are, there will your prayers stick also."

"If you saw my lambs," Tosh began; and then, ashamed of himself,

said, looking upward, "He holds the rain in the hollow of His

hand."

"And He's closing His neive ticht on't again," said the precentor

solemnly. "Hearken to the wind rising!"

"God help me!" cried Tosh, wringing his hands. "Is it fair, think

you," he said, passionately addressing the sky, "to show your

wrath wi' Mr. Dishart by ruining my neeps?"

"You were richt, Tammas Whamond," Spens said, growing hard as he

listened to the wind, "the sanctuary o' the Lord has been profaned

this nicht by him wha should be the chief pillar o' the building."

They were lowering brows that greeted Hendry when he returned to

say that Mr. Dishart had been seen last on the hill with the Glen

Quharity dominie.

"Some thinks," said the kirk officer, "that he's awa hunting for

Rob Dow."

"Nothing'll excuse him," replied Spens, "short o' his having

fallen over the quarry."

Hendry's was usually a blank face, but it must have looked

troubled now, for Tosh was about to say, "Hendry, you're keeping

something back," when the precentor said it before him.

"Wi' that story o' Mr. Dishart's murder, no many hours auld yet,"

the kirk officer replied evasively, "we should be wary o' trusting

gossip."

"What hae you heard?"

"It's through the town," Hendry answered, "that a woman was wi'

the dominie."

"A woman!" cried Tosh, "The woman there's been sic talk about in

connection wi' the minister? Whaur are they now?"

"It's no kent, but--the dominie was seen goin' hame by himsel'."

"Leaving the minister and her thegither!" cried the three men at

once.

"Hendry Munn," Tammas said sternly, "there's mair about this; wha

is the woman?"

"They are liars," Hendry answered, and shut his mouth tight.

"Gie her a name, I say," the precentor ordered, "or, as chief

elder of this kirk, supported by mair than half o' the Session, I

command you to lift your hat and go."

Hendry gave an appealing look to Tosh and Spens, but the

precentor's solemnity had cowed them.

"They say, then," he answered sullenly, "that it's the Egyptian.

Yes, and I believe they ken."

The two farmers drew back from this statement incredulously; but

Tammas Whamond jumped at the kirk officer's throat, and some who

were in the church that night say they heard Hendry scream. Then

the precentor's fingers relaxed their grip, and he tottered into

the middle of the room.

"Hendry," he pleaded, holding out his arms pathetically, "tak'

back these words. Oh, man, have pity, and tak' them back!"

But Hendry would not, and then Lang Tammas's mouth worked

convulsively, and he sobbed, crying, "Nobody kent it, but mair

than mortal son, O God, I did love the lad!"

So seldom in a lifetime had any one seen into this man's heart

that Spens said, amazed:

"Tammas, Tammas Whamond, it's no like you to break down."

The rusty door of Whamond's heart swung to.

"Who broke down?" he asked fiercely. "Let no member of this

Session dare to break down till his work be done."

"What work?" Tosh said uneasily. "We canna interfere."

"I would rather resign," Spens said, but shook when Whamond hurled

these words at him:

"'And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the

plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.'"

"It mayna be true," Hendry said eagerly.

"We'll soon see."

"He would gie her up," said Tosh.

"Peter Tosh," answered Whamond sternly, "I call upon you to

dismiss the congregation."

"Should we no rather haud the meeting oursel's?"

"We have other work afore us," replied the precentor.

"But what can I say?" Tosh asked nervously, "Should I offer up a

prayer?"

"I warn you all," broke in Hendry, "that though the congregation

is sitting there quietly, they'll be tigers for the meaning o'

this as soon as they're in the street."

"Let no ontruth be telled them," said the precentor. "Peter Tosh,

do your duty. John Spens, remain wi' me."

The church emptied silently, but a buzz of excitement arose

outside. Many persons tried to enter the vestry, but were ordered

away, and when Tosh joined his fellow-elders the people were

collecting in animated groups in the square, or scattering through

the wynds for news.

"And now," said the precentor, "I call upon the three o' you to

come wi' me. Hendry Munn, you gang first."

"I maun bide ahint," Hendry said, with a sudden fear, "to lock up

the kirk."

"I'll lock up the kirk," Whamond answered harshly.

"You maun gie me the keys, though," entreated the kirk officer.

"I'll take care o' the keys," said Whamond.

"I maun hae them," Hendry said, "to open the kirk on Sabbath."

The precentor locked the doors, and buttoned up the keys in his

trousers pockets.

"Wha kens," he said, in a voice of steel, "that the kirk'll be

open next Sabbath?"

"Hae some mercy on him, Tamtnas," Spens implored. "He's no twa-

and-twenty."

"Wha kens," continued the precentor, "but that the next time this

kirk is opened will be to preach it toom?"

"What road do we tak'?"

"The road to the hill, whaur he was seen last."

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