CHAPTER X.
The first thing Andrew did on reaching Wheens was to write to his London landlady to send on his box with clothes by goods train; also his tobacco pouch, which he had left on the mantelpiece, and two pencils which she would find in the tea-caddy.
Then he went around to the manse.
The minister had great news for him.
The master of the Wheens Grammar School had died.

Andrew had only to send in his testimonials, and the post was his.
The salary was 200 pounds per annum, with an assistant and the privilege of calling himself rector.
This settled, Andrew asked for Clarrie.

He was humbler now than he had been, and in our disappointments we turn to woman for solace.
Clarrie had been working socks for him, and would have had them finished by this time had she known how to turn the heel.
It is his sweetheart a man should be particular about.

Once he settles down it does not much matter whom he marries.
All this and much more the good old minister pointed out to Andrew.
Then he left Clarrie and her lover together.
The winsome girl held one of the socks on her knee--who will chide her ?--and a tear glistened in her eye.
Andrew was a good deal affected.
"Clarrie," he said softly, "will you be my wife ?" She clung to him in reply.

He kissed her fondly.
"Clarrie, beloved," he said nervously, after a long pause, "how much are seven and thirteen ?" "Twenty-three," said Clarrie, putting up her mouth to his.
Andrew laughed a sad vacant laugh.
He felt that he would never understand a woman.