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He's only
been a matter of three months here, filling the place o' the settled
meenister who's awa' for a change of air."
"He's a precious specimen of a humbug, anyhow," sighed Lorimer drearily.
"However, I'll be civil to him as long as he doesn't ask me to hear him
preach. At that suggestion I'll fight him. He's soft enough to bruise
easily."
"Ye're just too lazy to fight onybody," declared Macfarlane.
Lorimer smiled sweetly. "Thanks, awfully! I dare say you're right. I've
never found it worth while as yet to exert myself in any particular
direction. No one has asked me to exert myself; no one wants me to exert
myself; therefore, why should I?"
"Don't ye want to get on in the world?" asked Macfarlane, almost
brusquely.
"Dear me, no! What an exhausting idea! Get on in the world--what for? I
have five hundred a year, and when my mother goes over to the majority
(long distant be that day, for I'm very fond of the dear old lady), I
shall have five thousand--more than enough to satisfy any sane man who
doesn't want to speculate on the Stock Exchange.


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