d."

"Well, it winna be for long. Just till he's done at the college. I
dare say it is the best thing that can happen him to bide. But who told
you?"

"Arthur told me after we went up-stairs to-night. And, oh! Janet! what
will I ever do without him?"

"Miss Graeme, my dear! You hae done without him these two years already
mostly, and even if we all were to bide in Scotland, you would hae to do
without him still. He could na' be here and at the college too. And
when he's done with that he would hae to go elsewhere. Families canna
aye bide together. Bairns maun part."

"But, Janet, to go so far and leave him! It will seem almost like
death."

"But, lassie it's no' death. There's a great difference. And as for
seeing him again, that is as the Lord wills. Anyway, it doesna become
you to cast a slight on your father's judgment, as though he had decided
unwisely in this matter. Do you no' think it will cost him something to
part from his first-born son?"

"But, Janet, why need he part from him? Think how much better it would
be for him, and for us all, if Arthur should go with us. Arthur is
almost a man."

"Na, lass. He'll no' hae a man's sense this while yet. And as for his
goin' or bidin', it's no' for you or me to seek for the why and the
wherefore o' the matter. It might be better--more cheery--for you and
us all if your elder brother were with us, but it wouldna be best for
him to go, or your father would never leave him, you may be sure o'
that."

There was a long silence. Graeme sat gazing into the dying embers.
Janet threw on another peat, and a bright blaze sprang up again.

"Miss Graeme, my dear, if it's a wise and right thing for your father to
take you all over the sea, the going or the biding o' your elder brother
can make no real difference. You must seek to see the rights o' this.
If your father hasna him to help him with the bairns and--ither things,
the more he'll need you, and you maun hae patience, and strive no' to
disappoint him. You hae muckle to be thankful for--you that can write
to ane anither like a printed book, to keep ane anither in mind.
There's nae fear o' your growin' out o' acquaintance, and he'll soon
follow, you may be sure. Oh, lassie, lassie! if you could only ken!"

Graeme raised herself up, and leaned both her arms on Janet's lap.

"Janet, what did your mother say?"

Janet gulped something down, and said, huskily,--

"Oh! she said many a thing, bu