This struck Mr Burnett as a novel and very interesting way of putting the matter. He forgot all about the dinner awaiting him at the manse, and when the stranger offered him a very promising-looking cigar, he accepted it with pleasure, and leaned over the parapet beside him. There, with his eyes on the running water, he listened and talked for some time.
The stranger began to talk about the various charming out-of-the-way places in Scotland. It seemed he was a perfervid admirer of everything Scottish, and had motored or tramped all over the country from Berwick to the Pentland Firth. In fact, he had even crossed the waters, for he presently burst forth into a eulogy of the Windy Islands.
"The most delightful spot, sir, I have ever visited!" he said enthusiastically. "There is a peacefulness and charm, and at the same time something stimulating in the air I simply can't describe. In body and mind I felt a new man after a week there!"
The minister was so clearly struck by this, and his interest so roused, that the stranger pursued the topic and added a number of enticing details.
"By the way," he exclaimed presently, "do you happen to know a fellow-clergyman there called Maxwell? His parish is—let me see—Ah, Myredale, that's the name."
This struck Mr Burnett as quite extraordinary.
"I don't know him personally," he began.
"A very sensible fellow," continued the stranger impetuously. "He told me his parish was as like heaven as anything on this mortal earth!"
"He has just left it," said Mr Burnett.
The stranger seemed surprised and interested.