o until he was directly
opposite.

'Christina! . . . Yer third finger is aboot the same as ma wee
yin.'

'Ay; but ye needna remind me o' ma clumsy han's.'

'Play fair,' he said. 'Will ye tak' the ring?'

'I dinna ken, Mac.'

But her hand was in his.

Too soon they heard Miss Tod stirring in the back room.

'If ye spend mair nor a pound on a ring,' said Christina, 'I'll
reconsider ma decision!'

'Ye've decided!' he almost shouted.

'No yet,' she said, with a gesture of dismissal as Miss Tod entered.

BREAKING IT GENTLY

The quest of the right ring occupied the whole of the forenoon, and
Macgregor reached his home in bare time for the family dinner. He
desired to break his news as gently as possible, so, after making,
to his mother's annoyance, a most wretched meal, he said to his
father, who was lighting his pipe, in a voice meant to be natural:

'I got five pound frae Aunt Purdie the day.'

'Ye what!' Mr. Robinson dropped the match, and shouted to his
wife, who, assisted by their daughter, was starting to wash up.
'Lizzie! Did ever ye hear the like? Macgreegor's got five pound
frae his Aunt Purdie! Dod, but that's a braw birthday----'

'She said it was for accidental expenses,' stammered the son.

Lizzie turned and looked at him. 'What ails ye the day, laddie?'

'Uncle Purdie's gaun to keep ma place for me,' he floundered.

'Keep yer place for ye!' cried John. 'What's a' this aboot
accidental expenses? Ha'e ye got hurt?'

Mrs. Robinson came over and laid a damp hand on her boy's shoulder.
'Macgreegor, ye needna be feart to tell us. We can thole it.' She
glanced at her husband, and said, in a voice he had not often
heard: 'John, oor wee Macgreegor has growed up to be a; sojer'--and
went back to her dishes.

Later, and just when he ought to be returning to his work, Mr.
Robinson, possibly for the mere sake of saying something, requested
a view of the five pounds.

'Ay,' seconded Lizzie, cheerfully, whilst her hand itched to grab
the money and, convey it to the bank, 'let's see them, laddie.'
And sister Jeannie and small brother Jimsie likewise gathered round
the hero.

With a feeble grin, Macgregor produced his notes.

'He's jist got three!' cried Jimsie.

'Whisht, Jimsie!' whispered Jeannie.

'Seems to ha'e been a bad accident already!' remarked John,
laughing boisterously.

'John,' said Lizzie, 'ye'll be late. Macgreegor'll maybe walk a
bit o' the road wi' ye.'

Th