164 The Little Minister

o’t on his top-coat. No that it has the same
look on him.”

‘“* Nevertheless,” Babbie persisted, “1 am sure
the minister has a cloak; but perhaps he is
ashamed of it. No doubt it is hidden away in
the garret.”

“Na, we would hae kent o’t if it was there,”
said Nanny.

“But it may be in a chest, and the chest may
be locked,” the Egyptian suggested.

“Ay, but the kist in the garret isna locked,”
Nanny answered.

“Flow do you get to know all these things,
Nanny?” asked Gavin, sighing.

“Your congregation tells me. Naebody would
lay by news about a minister.”

“ But how do they know?”

“JT dinna ken. They just find out, because
they’re so fond o’ you.”

“I hope they will never become so fond of
me as that,” said Babbie. “Still, Nanny, the
minister’s cloak is hidden somewhere.”

“ Losh, what would make him hod it?” de-
manded the old woman. “ Folk that has cloaks
doesna bury them in boxes.”

At the word “ bury ” Gavin’s hand fell on the
table, and he returned to Nanny apprehensively.

“That would depend on how the cloak was
got,” said the cruel Egyptian. “If it was not
his own —”

“ Lassie,” cried Nanny, “ behave yoursel’.”

“Or if he found it in his possession against his
will?” suggested Gavin, slyly. ‘“ He might have
got it from some one who picked it up cheap.”