ould answer his unpronounceable
words. They were just a vain babblement."

"Jean Pollok was a' for the school tonight; this morning she was
raving against it."

"That was to be looked for. There is as much two-facedness in some
women, as there's meat in an egg."

"But for all disputing, Mither, everyone seemed to think the school
would be a good thing."

"It is this, and that, and what not, and how it will end nobody knows.
Some folks are ill to please, even when they get their ain way."

"You could hardly make Mary Leslie keep her sitting. She wanted to
stand up, and ask the Domine how she was to cook and wash and clean
and sew and nurse her baby, without the help o' her girls, Jess and
Flora. She said there was eleven in her family, and she wanted to know
how it was to be managed. It was hard to keep her still."

"It was vera barefaced o' her. But she put up her hand wi' the rest."

"Ay, Mither. She was feared for Peter Brodie quarreling with her man.
That's Peter's way o' managing women; he mak's their husbands
responsible for a' they say, and do; he says, 'the husbands ought to
hae brought up their wives better.' He has done it, you know, Mither,
several times."

Margot laughed. "Ay," she said, "for Tamson's wife. Naebody blamed
him. Anne Tamson has a parfectly unruly tongue, and her husband,
Watty, got the licking for what she said anent Frazer and his wife. I
wouldna fear the man mysel', and the maist o' our women could gie him
as much--and mair--than he sends."

So they talked until the cottage was reached, and the day was over.
Christine went gladly to her room. A crusie was burning on the table,
and she removed her gown and uncoiled her long, brown hair. Then all
was still, and she let herself think, and her decision was, "if Angus
had wanted to come, he would have done so.

"It isna my place," she continued, "to tak' care on the subject. I'll
no mak' mysel' and ithers miserable anent him, forbye Angus Ballister
is clear outside me, and my life."

Then she rose and took a large copy book from a drawer, and sitting
down at the table, took pen and ink and wrote:

November second. I was a little troubled all day about Angus. He
didna come, and he didna send, and there was neither sign nor
sight o' him. Weel, my warld went on wanting the lad, and the
school talk filled the day, and at night I went wi' Mither to the
meeting about it. From this hour I begin to forget Angus. I will
ask God