'Can I see him?'
'He's no in, sir.'
'No in! Will you direct me to his office?'
'He has nae office.'
'No! What does he do? Where does he go?'
'He aye gangs to the kirk.'
'To the kirk! What is he?'
'He's a minister.'
Mr Smith was puzzled again. He had a strong impression that his man was a merchant—nay, he had even some floating idea that he was a wine-merchant: but still—here were the street and the name, and not a particularly common name—a conjunction which formed a stubborn fact. He asked if he could see Mrs Archibald, and was at once shown into that lady's presence. Mrs Archibald received him with the ease and politeness of one accustomed to the visits of strangers, and on being told that he had a letter of introduction for her husband, entered freely into conversation.
'I saw Mr Archibald's last communication to my friend in London,' said Mr Smith, determined to feel his way: 'it was on the subject of schools.'