no sooner was he settled in glenoro than the young pastor commenced a thorough and systematic course of visiting. he found it very slow work, however, in spite of his activity. each family of his flock vied with the other in lavishing upon him its hospitality. he was detained for nearly a day at each place, and dinners, teas and lunches, so many and so elaborate, were forced upon him that he was divided between the fear of giving offence by refusing to partake and the dread of becoming a chronic dyspeptic.
his earliest visits, he felt, should be paid to the homes of his elders, so, a few days after the lively evening spent at the hamiltons', he took his slim cane and went up over the northern wall of glenoro to pay his respects to old andrew johnstone. a somewhat difficult task he knew it would be, for he had already been warned by mrs. mcnabb that splinterin' andra was a dour old man. but he felt no apprehensions; his sunny smile and his charming manner had often swept away greater obstacles than this old fellow's crustiness. so he strode along in high spirits, flicking the tops off the wayside weeds, whistling a gay operatic air and incidentally wondering whether her eyes were blue or grey.
when he climbed the northern hill of glenoro and came out upon the broad, sun-flooded highlands, he found that the country sloped gently upwards, rising in great sweeping terraces of green pastureland and fields of early grain, until it reached its highest altitude on the shores of lake oro. andrew johnstone lived on the borderland between the highlands and the lowlands; his house, a substantial red brick, surrounded by orchards, stood on the edge of one of the wide terraces and commanded a view of the country for miles around. every step of the way was a pleasure to the newcomer; the sky was dazzling and unclouded, the air was intoxicating with the scent of clover, and the tinkling music of the bobolinks sounded as though all the fairies on the oro hills were setting out their tiny cups and saucers for a banquet.
he was strolling along, revelling in the beauty of the perfect day and in the sight of the rich slopes of farm lands coming down towards him like a magnificent staircase, when his attention was attracted by a figure on the road ahead approaching with remarkable haste. it proved to be a man, somewhat past middle age; he was of medium height and had a fiery red beard which flew back from his face and accentuated the general air of desperate hurry in his whole appearance.
his face was even redder than his beard, and his wild blue eyes blazed out in fierce contrast. an old scotch bonnet sat upon the side of his head and a faded tartan plaid flying from his shoulders gave the finishing touches to his fantastic appearance. this rather alarming person was bearing down upon the young minister and he drew off to the side of the road and grasped his stick more firmly. john egerton did not lack courage any more than his grandfather had done, but he felt it would be scarcely ministerial to have a fight on the public highway the first week of his pastorate. he had not been long enough in glenoro to recognise the fiery highlander who kept the oa in a ferment and who went by the weird name of catchach. allister mcbeth he really was, but, with their usual avoidance of baptismal names, the neighbours had given him a more descriptive title. he had earned it himself, for he was named after the strange guttural sound which he was in the habit of making deep in his throat, whenever his anger was roused. this was a contingency which arose on an average once an hour and which, when in the company of any mischief-loving youth of the village, became catchach's chronic state.
his pride was so fierce, and his temper so inflammable, that he was an unfailing source of merriment, especially to the neil boys and their friends. there was not a kinder or tenderer heart in all the ontario highlands than poor catchach's, but he was always in the throes of a feud with someone, for he loved a fight and might be said never to be at peace except when he was at war.
it was this militant gentleman who was descending upon the unsuspecting young clergyman, setting the stones and dust flying in his haste. but there was no sign of war about him now, only a beaming peace and goodwill. his eyes were shining, his mouth was expanded in a terrible smile, displaying two rows of long, irregular, yellow teeth and his big red hands were outstretched in greeting. he shouted when he was some half-dozen yards distant, "they tell me you will pe hafing the gaelic!"
"i—i am not quite sure that i understand you," said the grandson of john mcalpine, coming to a standstill and wishing with all his heart that his cane was not so slim.
"my name will pe mcbess, allister mcbess!" cried the rubicund personage, grasping a rather unwilling hand and shaking it wildly, "allister mcbess, oh yes, inteet, an' they will pe telling me you will pe a real hielanman, though how coult a hielanman pe hafing such a name as egerton, it is a missery to me, whatefer!"
there was no mistaking the good feeling in catchach's beaming countenance. john egerton smiled and shook his hand in return. "i am afraid there is a slight mistake," he answered cordially, "i can't boast of being altogether highland scotch, and who has been telling you i could speak gaelic?" he pronounced it galic and a change came over catchach's face.
"tonal neil, tonal neil, whatefer; he will pe saying the new minister will pe hielan' an' will pe hafing the beautiful gaelic!"
the look of good-natured indulgence died from john egerton's face at the mention of donald's name. the young man with the easy air of equality had been taking liberties! "i am sorry to disappoint you, mr. mcbess," he said stiffly, making the fatal error of failing to detect mcbeth in catchach's lisp, "i am neither highland scotch nor can i speak the gaelic."
catchach let go his coat; a quiver of mortal disappointment passed over his face.
"and whoever has told you such falsehoods," continued the young man with some heat, "is an untruthful mischiefmaker!"
catchach's fiery countenance became rigid. he stepped back and stared so wildly at the minister that the young man hastened to add for his own personal safety, "but i have much highland blood, you know, and plenty of lowland scotch, too."
alas! how little he knew of the spirit of the mcbeth! "a lowlander!" it was all catchach could utter, but the tone in which he said it showed plainly that if mr. egerton had confessed to being a full-blood native of the south sea islands it would have been infinitely better. "a lowlander!" repeated the highlander with withering scorn, "tonal neil, tonal neil will pe saying she would haf the gaelic——" the rest was lost to the ears of the despised lowlander in a wild outpouring of gaelic as catchach turned and went raging down the road to wreak vengeance on the author of his disappointment.
the young minister continued on his way in great annoyance. under any other circumstances the humour of the situation would have appealed to him, but the name of donald neil had driven away all the fun. in spite of his free and easy manner, john egerton was intensely sensitive about his dignity as a minister, and to find himself the victim of a practical joke at the hands of the most influential young man of his congregation was anything but pleasant.
had he seen the huge figure of young andrew johnstone disentangle itself from the raspberry bushes by the roadside and steal quietly along the edge of the field to where his idle team was standing, he would have been still more incensed; and had he chanced to look back when he reached the hilltop and noticed the same young man leaning weakly against his horses and wiping the tears from his eyes, he would have felt like administering a sound thrashing to at least two of the young people of his congregation.
he arrived at the johnstone household at a time when he was particularly welcome to his host. old andrew had spent the early part of the afternoon arguing with his son upon certain hard points of doctrine. that a youth of wee andra's professions should presume to give any sort of an opinion whatever upon the shorter catechism was, in his father's eyes, nothing short of impious. but, as the young man was of that class that rush in where angels fear to tread, he had given his views on predestination without any hesitancy and had gone off to the field leaving his father in a very bad humour. wee andra himself was particularly happy, for he took an unfilial delight in troubling his paternal relative. at heart he was respectful and dutiful and if any one had dared to breathe a word against his father in his presence, splinterin' andra's son would soon have shown himself worthy of his sire's appellation; nevertheless, partly from love of fun and partly through a good-natured stupidity, he proved a veritable thorn in the flesh to his unhappy father. so old andrew was looking forward to the visit of his pastor with the hope that his example and admonition would have a steadying effect upon his frivolous son. like duncan polite, the elder looked upon the young minister as the deliverer of the people of glenoro church from the spirit of worldliness which he felt characterised them. so, when his daughter came to summon him to the house to put on a coat and collar, as the minister had been sighted on the road not half a mile away, he hurried in with great alacrity to greet his visitor.
tea at elder johnstone's was no light ceremony under any circumstances. his was not a place where people went for relaxation and jollity, except on the rare occasions when the old folks were away and wee andra held sway. the young minister, anxious to please and be friendly, felt from the moment he opened the gate and went up the path, where neat beds of onions and cabbages encroached upon the very doorstep, that it was going to be something of an ordeal.
his opinion did not alter when he found himself seated at the well-laden table in the big spotless dining room. he could not help contrasting the stiff formality with the ease and gaiety of the hamilton household. old andrew sat, stern and dignified, at the head of the table. ordinarily he was talkative, but on this evening he restrained himself, for a gentleman of the old school did not consider it good manners to talk too much in the presence of so superior a person as the minister. at the other end of the table mrs. johnstone, red-faced and anxious, bustled nervously with the new china cups and saucers. beside the minister sat janet, the only daughter, a fair, shy girl of sixteen, afraid to look up, and the son of the house sat opposite in his shirtsleeves responding to mr. egerton's friendly advances with monosyllabic answers, a puzzling contrast to his uproarious geniality at their former meetings. of course, john egerton could not guess that the young man was holding down his laughter by superhuman efforts and could not afford to waste any strength upon conversation.
there was a very depressing atmosphere over the whole table, but the visitor had plenty of tact to overcome it. he put mrs. johnstone at her ease by a cautiously worded compliment upon the repast, for he had learned that a true scotch woman must ever be approached warily with flattery. he set janet into a flutter of happiness by relating to her a humourous account of some of his sister's attempts at housekeeping, an art in which janet was well versed, and he soon had her laughing at the city girl's mistakes with quite a feeling of superiority. wee andra was more difficult,—horses, foot-ball, farm work, music, he rose to none of these baits. but he came to life in a most surprising manner when, in dilating upon the beauties of glenoro scenery, the minister happened to mention the enjoyment he had experienced in his afternoon walk up the green slopes.
this seemed to be the one topic in which the son of the house was interested. he looked up suddenly and remarked, "awful quiet road; s'pose you didn't meet anybody?"
"yes, i did meet a man," responded the other readily, glad at having made an impression at last, "a man named mcbess or some such name."
"mcbeth it would be," said old andrew, "allister mcbeth,—catchach they call him. he's a danderin' bit o' a firebrand."
"were you speakin' to him?" wee andra shot out the question and took refuge in a huge gulp of tea. john egerton glanced across the table quickly. he was beginning to suspect that donald neil's chum had had a hand in this childish affair, but he was too wise to show any annoyance.
"i didn't get a chance to say much to him," he said, laughing good naturedly; "he did the talking. he seemed to have become possessed of the idea that i was past-master of the art of gaelic, and when i confessed my culpable ignorance of the language, he flew into a rage. he seemed to lay the blame upon your friend, young mcdonald." he looked steadily at wee andra as he spoke.
old andrew shot a suspicious glance at his son; that young man's face was an innocent blank which did not deceive his parent.
"aye," he grunted, "it's quite likely he was to blame. yon neil lads are aye up to some ill. ye hae a hard set o' young people to deal wi' in this place, maister egerton, an' ah houp the lord'll gie ye grace to wrastle wi' them!"
mr. egerton looked uncomfortable. he saw quite plainly that, though the elder was addressing him, he was talking at his son, and tried to turn the conversation. but old andrew felt that here was an opportunity to warn the new minister of the difficulties and dangers which beset him, an opportunity no honourable man could let pass, so he launched forth. he was perfectly innocent of any double meaning in his words, but as he railed away against the lightness and giddiness of the rising generation, the young minister felt his indignation rising. did this old man mean to point out to him the proper line of conduct? if so, he would soon let him see that john mcalpine egerton would be dictated to by no man of his congregation, no more than would his grandfather before him! but splinterin' andra sailed on and when he had finished he had given the young pastor a dark and most discouraging picture of the youth of his flock.
"aye, sir," he concluded, "they're jist given over to lichtness an' foolish talkin'. it's the blue beech gad they want; they didna get enough o't when they were bairns. ah'm pleased that ye're come among them to show them a proper way o' conductin' themsels!"
wee andra cast a humorous glance at the uncomfortable visitor. he had his own opinion as to whether his pastor was a model of staid and sober conduct and was, in consequence, enjoying his father's tirade hugely.
john egerton was very much relieved when the meal was ended, but the feeling was of short duration, for when they repaired to the parlour matters grew steadily worse. the appearance of the room with its black haircloth furniture, its bristling white lace curtains, its coffin-plate of a former mrs. johnstone in a black frame on the centre table, its smooth white walls adorned with strange and wonderfully constructed hair and feather wreaths in huge frames, and over all the close, damp odour, made a combination which was anything but cheerful.
the family followed him into the parlour and seated themselves stiffly around the walls. kirsty mcduff, the servant girl, and jimmie bailey, the chore boy, entered also a few minutes later. the young minister noticed, with something of the sensations of a felon going to his execution, that each person held a bible and psalm book, distributed solemnly by mrs. johnstone as they entered, and that janet and the bailey boy were further provided with catechisms. he glanced at the daughter of the house and pictured himself sitting before the whole household inquiring after her spiritual welfare. the comical side of it struck him and almost upset his gravity.
but there was very little food for mirth in the task before him. he had no idea of what a pastoral visitation meant to the johnstones. of course, he had heard very often of the strange old ways of his grandfather's time, but considered them as belonging to the dim past. but glenoro had not quite emerged from the ancient ways. in the good old days, so lately gone, when mr. cameron had visited the members of his congregation, a pastoral visitation was not merely a social function, but a solemn religious ceremony. the minister might discuss with the heads of the family such light matters as the crops or the weather before or during tea; but afterwards, when the family gathered in the best room with their pastor in the midst, temporal affairs were put aside and there was a season of deep heart-searching. there were the catechism and scripture verses to be heard from the younger members of the family and personal questions to be asked. the minister must know just what progress each one was making on the upward road. there were virtues to commend and mistakes to rebuke. then, after the reading of a chapter from the book and the singing of a psalm, there were a few deep, earnest words from the pastor, words which steadied many a careless youth and instilled into the hearts of the children the knowledge that god and right are the only factors to be reckoned with in this world. the ceremony was concluded with a long and fervent prayer by the minister, as old and young knelt around the family altar, a prayer which included a distinct comprehensive petition for each member of the family and one from which they all arose strengthened and bettered and ready for the battle against wrong.
still more solemn had been the visitations of john egerton's grandfather. that grand old apostle lived in the hard, rough days, and his coming was often looked forward to with dread. his scorching rebuke of sin, his powerful personality and his complete consecration combined to make his visits a sort of foreshadowing of the great judgment day.
but john mcalpine egerton belonged to a different era. he honestly wanted to do his duty, but his duty on this occasion, he felt, consisted in making himself agreeable to the johnstone family, not knowing that the head of the household cared not a whit how disagreeable his pastor might be so long as he was solemn. the old man, ashamed of his harsh remarks, was silent and moody. his young pastor's interests were his own and he had spoken from the highest motives. but he sighed when he thought how much better duncan polite would have dealt with the situation. wee andra was the only one who was quite at his ease; he seemed to realise that this pastoral visitation was something less rigid than former affairs of the sort, and chewed a straw with unconscious impudence. mrs. johnstone talked a little, but nervously and in an absent-minded manner, fearing that every word she uttered was keeping the minister from giving voice to the solemn truths he was waiting to pour forth. janet sat on the extreme edge of the sofa, her hands folded, her golden head drooping and the unhappy young pastor sat at the other end and made desperate efforts to raise the social atmosphere.
he spoke kindly to kirsty, a tall, fine-looking girl, very much more composed than the daughter of the house; and he asked jimmie bailey about the calves and the lambs, wondering all the while at the oppressive silence. then he turned to janet and tried to open up a conversation with her. he had noticed that the stern visage of the ruling elder relaxed almost into tenderness whenever his eye fell upon his daughter and the wily young man guessed that he might reach the father's heart through her. he inquired if janet played the organ, and, learning that she did, he requested her to favour them with some music.
"go on, jinny," said her brother with suspicious heartiness, "give us a rousin' old jig."
janet glanced at her mother in alarm. to play the organ when the minister was making a pastoral call was surely not to be thought of. but her mother nodded, as mr. egerton insisted, and the girl went reluctantly forward, feeling as if she were guilty of sacrilege. she stumbled awkwardly through a loud, noisy march, which made the visitor want to grind his teeth, and as she finished wee andra came to life again.
"won't you sing something, mr. egerton?" he asked cordially. "he can sing jist boss, father; you ought to hear him."
old andrew drew in a deep breath, but made no reply. the minister demurred at first, but finally yielded. if there was anything in the old adage that "music hath charms," he told himself grimly that now was the time to put it to the test. he took up a hymn book and selected a hymn janet could play. the leader of the methodist choir condescended to flop down noisily from his oblique position and join him. janet's sweet, timid voice made a pleasant third and the trio rendered some gospel hymns very musically.
when they had finished wee andra begged so hard for a song that the visitor could not well refuse and, taking janet's place at the organ, he played and sang "sailing" in splendid style. jimmie bailey, who was always threatening to run away on a lake huron boat, was enchanted and called for more, but something in the elder's face warned the young minister that he had sung enough. he went back to his uncomfortable seat on the sofa and strove to carry on a conversation, but without success.
at length, despairing of ever making friends with this strange family, he made up his mind to depart. he asked for a bible and mrs. johnstone handed him a ponderous volume, bound in gilt-edged leather, which she took, with deep reverence and some pride, from beneath the coffin-plate. old andrew drew a breath of relief. now at last he would see if this young man were really worthy of his high calling and the name he bore; now surely he would speak and show that his mind was set on higher things. likely he would say something that would set wee andra thinking and put some solemn truths in his empty head.
but john egerton's one thought was to get away as quickly as possible. he read a very short psalm, in a spiritless voice, and they all knelt for a moment while he led in prayer. he took a hurried farewell of the family; the elder scarcely spoke and mrs. johnstone regarded him with a puzzled expression.
he walked homeward in the soft summer dusk, down the great wide staircase, which grew a deeper purple towards the bottom, his heart very heavy. he had tried so hard to do his best, but there was something sadly wrong, he could not quite understand what.
he was beginning to fear that mrs. mcnabb's warning that "glenoro church was full of old cranks" was only too true.
he was passing slowly down the sloping, faintly pink road, absorbed in his unhappy reflections when, glancing up as he neared the edge of the valley, he noticed an old man standing at the gate of a little log shanty. the young minister remembered shaking hands with him at church—a quiet old fellow with a handsome, refined face. he had opened his gate and stood as though waiting, looking so kind, so sympathetic and so altogether different from old andrew johnstone that the young man felt drawn towards him. he paused involuntarily. "good evening," he said pleasantly, "mr.—polite, i think?"
duncan's smile grew more radiant. "oh, indeed, they will be calling me that foolish name, whatever," he said apologetically, "but my name will be jist mcdonald, duncan mcdonald; oh yes, and you will be coming in for a little rest?"
his manner was so eager and kindly that john egerton readily accepted. he could not account, however, for the look of joy that overspread the old man's face as he led him up the flower-bordered path; for he was unaware that duncan was saying to himself that donald would be sure to drop in on his way to the glen, as he always did, and at last he would see those two together and the lord would do the rest.
the visitor sat down on the chair beside the lilac bush, having persuaded his host that he preferred to sit out of doors. he leaned back with a sigh of relief and gazed around him. the whole landscape was darkly radiant with that wonderful life-like pulsation which we call the after-glow. the sky was a suggestion of rose and amber fainting into a delicate green and deepening again into a transparent blue where one star hung above duncan's pines. a world of insect life hummed sleepily in the long grass of the meadow; across the road in the darkness of the woods, a whip-poor-will was whistling away at his plaintive little tune; and from far down in the valley at their feet came up the laughter and shouts of children at play.
"this is a lovely spot," said the young man, feeling soothed and rested. duncan polite's face beamed; he did not answer, from sheer joy, but waited in silence for such words of wisdom as his pastor might be pleased to utter. john egerton talked easily when his company was pleasant, and he was soon chatting away upon such topics as he considered congenial to the old farmer—the crops, the prospects for the haying, the mill in the valley, the amount of lumber sawn and the money realised.
and all the time duncan polite's whole soul was waiting for his guest to speak of the one great subject, the subject that would make it possible for him to tell this young disciple of his master that all his hope for glenoro and donald lay in him. but the minister continued his friendly chat upon indifferent topics, until it was interrupted by a noise upon the road above, a sound of loud talking and louder laughter drawing near. he paused to listen and involuntarily the faces of both men broke into smiles in reflection of the mirth which was apparently convulsing those who approached.
"ah, those foolish lads, hoots, toots, what a noise!" said duncan apologetically, for he recognised donald's voice and sandy's, too, in the uproarious shouts of laughter.
but as they came nearer the smile faded from john egerton's face. he caught the word catchach, and suddenly the whole truth flashed upon him. wee andra had witnessed the meeting of that afternoon and was giving to the neil boys what they apparently considered a side-splitting description of the affair. all his ministerial dignity rose to meet the insult.
sandy's voice could be heard distinctly above the others, interspersed with convulsive haw haws.
"great snakes! you did it that time, don! bet it scared next sunday's sermon clean out o' his head!"
then wee andra's deep voice, "jimminy! it was a better show than all the monkeys at the circus!"
"was he scared?" it was donald neil who dared to ask that question.
"looked mighty skittish for a minit, but i was weepin' that hard i couldn't see very good. catchach swore like a trooper. i could tell that by the way he was grinnin', but the fearful pity was neither me nor his reverence could understand it!"
they went off again with such utter abandon that duncan feared the minister might be shocked by such uproarious behaviour on the public road. he did not at all comprehend the meaning of their conversation himself, in fact he scarcely listened to it, so eagerly was he watching for donald.
the noisy crowd passed the house, and one tall figure detached itself from the group and, swinging open the gate, came up the path. donald never forgot to give his uncle a call, as he passed on his way to the glen. duncan rose in a tremor of joy. he did not notice that his nephew gave a start at the sight of the minister. mr. egerton rose also and for an instant the two young men looked into each other's eyes with an expression of anything but amity.
"oh and it will be you, donal'," cried the old man in a voice which trembled with pleasure. "here is the minister come to call."
donald came forward, clinging desperately to the forlorn hope that the conversation had not been overheard.
"good evening, mr. egerton," he said in a rather constrained voice, holding out his hand; but the other young man did not seem to notice; perhaps the dusk accounted for his mistake.
"good evening, mr. mcdonald," he said stiffly. "i have remained rather long," he continued, speaking to duncan polite and incidentally turning his back upon donald. he shook hands with his host and without so much as a nod towards the younger man, started for the gate. duncan followed him, protesting, but the minister could not stay. he did not seem to hear the old man's timid suggestion that donald would be going down to the village, too, and would be glad to accompany him, but strode off alone, indignation displayed in every line of his fine, straight figure.
