"The very thing! Wait, here's something more:
"'Nov. 19th (Lord's day).—Went to church, and many people came to worship. Parson Skerton read the prayers and Thomas Storsacre the lessons. I prayed, and preached from Matt. vii. 23, 24; then ceased, and dismissed the people. After service, Thomas brought his new neighbor, Allan Ritson, who asked me to visit him that day and dine. So I went with him, and saw his wife and child—an infant in arms. Mrs. Ritson is a woman of some education and much piety. Her husband is a rough, blunt dalesman, of the good old type.'
"The very thing," the parson repeated, and he put a pipe spill in the page.
"I wonder why he wants it?" said Greta.
She left Parson Christian still looking at his book, and went out on her errand.
She was more than an hour gone, and when she returned, the winter's day had all but closed in. Only a little yellow light still lingered in the sky.
"Greta, they have sent for you from the Ghyll," said the parson, as she entered. "Mrs. Ritson wants to see you to-night. Natt, the stableman, came with the trap. But he has gone again."
"I will follow him at once," said Greta.
"Nay, my lass; the day is not young enough," said the parson.
"I was never afraid of the dark," said Greta.