Chapter XV. The Result

"How many did you say, Craven, of those Glengarry men of yours?" Professor Gray was catechizing his nephew.

"Ten of them, sir, besides the minister's son, who is going to take the full university course."

"And all of them bound for the ministry?"

"So they say. And judging by the way they take life, and the way, for instance, they play shinny, I have a notion they will see it through."

"They come of a race that sees things through," answered the professor. "And this is the result of this Zion Hill Academy I have been hearing so much about?"

"Well, sir, they put in a good year's work, I must say."

"You might have done worse, sir. Indeed, you deserve great credit, sir."

"I? Not a bit. I simply showed them what to do and how to do it. But there's a woman up there that the world ought to know about. For love of her--"

"Oh, the world!" snorted the professor. "The world, sir! The Lord deliver us! It might do the world some good, I grant."

"It is for love of her these men are in for the ministry."

"You are wrong, sir. That is not their motive."

"No, perhaps it is not. It would be unfair to say so, but yet she--"

"I know, sir. I know, sir. Bless my soul, sir. I know her. I knew her before you were born. But--yes, yes--" the professor spoke as if to himself--"for love of her men would attempt great things. You have these names, Craven? Ah! Alexander Stewart, Donald Cameron, Thomas Finch--Finch, let me see--ah, yes, Finch. His mother died after a long illness. Yes, I remember. A very sad case, a very sad case, indeed."

"And yet not so sad, sir," put in Craven. "At any rate, it did not seem so at the time. That night it seemed anything but sad. It was wonderful."

The professor laid down his list and sat back in his chair.

"Go on, sir," he said, gazing curiously at Craven. "I have heard a little about it. Let me see, it was the night of the great match, was it not?"

"Did you know about that? Who told you about the match, sir?"

"I hear a great many things, and in curious ways. But go on, sir, go on."

Craven sat silent, and from the look in his eyes his thoughts were far away.

"Well, sir, it's a thing I have never spoken about. It seems to me, if I may say so, something quite too sacred to speak of lightly."

Again Craven paused, while the professor waited.

"It was Hughie sent me there. There was a jubilation supper at the manse, you understand. Thomas Finch, the goal-keeper, you know-- magnificent fellow, too--was not at the supper. A messenger had come for him, saying that his mother had taken a bad