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I look eagerly through the mist for some signs of a dwelling-house and I see nothing but a little shelving beach, and a sheet of dark water beyond. Where are we? The gardener-groom vanishes, and appears again on the water, looming large in a boat. I am laid down in the bottom of the boat, with my saddle-pillow; and we shove off, leaving the ponies to the desolate freedom of the moor.

After a while, the first sense of relief passes away. My dormant curiosity revives. I begin to look about me. The gardener-groom has disappeared. I discover my traveling companion at the further end of the room, evidently occupied in questioning the guide. A word from me brings him to my bedside.

The guide looks at me and my friend as if he had been honored with the highest distinction that an earthly being can receive. The Master's hand had touched him kindly! In a moment more, the gardener-groom appears at the door to answer the bell. "You will move the medicine-chest into this room, Peter," says Mr. Dunross.

The composite man stands by impenetrably silent; the sight of a disabled stranger fails entirely either to surprise or to interest the gardener-groom. After a little private consultation, the two men decide to cross their hands, and thus make a seat for me between them. My arms rest on their shoulders; and so they carry me off. My friend trudges behind them, with the saddle and the cloak.

There was no one to play the organ if the schoolmistress failed to turn up as she often did. David however scrupulously turned the normal congregation of five Bridget, the maid of the time-being, the gardener-groom, the sexton, and a baker-church-warden into six by his unvarying attendance.