en Glory stole
out to post her letter. It fell into the letter-box with a thud, and she
crept back like a guilty thing.

XVI.

Next morning Mrs. Callender heard John Storm singing to himself before he
left his bedroom, and she was standing at the bottom of the stairs when
he came down three steps at a time.

"Bless me, laddie," she said, "to see your face shining a body would say
that somebody had left ye a legacy or bought ye a benefice instead of
taking your church frae ye!"

"Why, yes, and better than both, and that's just what I was going to tell
you."

"You must be in a hurry to do it, too, coming downstairs like a
cataract."

"You came down like a cataract yourself once on a time, auntie; I'll lay
my life on that."

"Aye, did I, and not sae lang since neither. And fools and prudes cried
'Oh!' and called me a tomboy. But, hoots; I was nought but a body born a
wee before her time. All the lasses are tomboys now, bless them, the
bright heart-some things!"

"Auntie," said John softly, seating himself at the breakfast table, "what
d'ye think?"

She eyed him knowingly. "Nay, I'm ower thrang working to be bothered
thinking. Out with it, laddie."

He looked wise. "Don't you remember saying--that work like mine wanted a
woman's hand in it?"

Her old eyes blinked. "Maybe I did, but what of it?"

"Well, I've taken your advice, and now a woman's hand is coming into it
to guide it and direct it."

"It must be the right hand, though, mind that."

"It _will_ be the right hand, auntie."

"Weel, that's grand," with another twinkle. "I thought it might be the
_left_, ye see, and ye might be putting a wedding-ring on it!" And then
she burst into a peal of laughter.

"However did you find it out?" he said, with looks of astonishment.

"Tut, laddie, love and a cough can not be hidden. And to think a woman
couldna see through you, too! But come," tapping the table with both
hands, "who is she?"

"Guess."

"Not one of your Sisters--no?" with hesitation.

"No," with emphasis.

"Some other simpering thing, na doot-they're all alike these days."

"But didn't you say the girls were all tomboys now?"

"And if I did, d'ye want a body to be singing the same song always? But
come, what like is she? When I hear of a lassie I like fine to know her
colour first. What's her complexion?"

"Guess again."

"Is she fair? But what a daft auld dunce I am!--to be sure she's fair."

"Why, how did you know that, no