n consequennce, and there
are ye, grannie, growin' oot o' yours in consequennce, an' haein'
nearhan' dune wi' them a'thegither er this time.'

'I wis that may be true, laddie. But I carena hoo ye put it,' returned
his grandmother, bewildered no doubt with this outburst, 'sae be that ye
put him first an' last an' i' the mids' o' a' thing, an' say wi' a' yer
hert, "His will be dune!"'

'Wi' a' my hert, "His will be dune," grannie,' responded Robert.

'Amen, amen. And noo, laddie, duv ye think there's ony likliheid that
yer father 's still i' the body? I dream aboot him whiles sae lifelike
that I canna believe him deid. But that's a' freits (superstitions).'

'Weel, grannie, I haena the least assurance. But I hae the mair houp.
Wad ye ken him gin ye saw him?'

'Ken him!' she cried; 'I wad ken him gin he had been no to say four,
but forty days i' the sepulchre! My ain Anerew! Hoo cud ye speir sic a
queston, laddie?'

'He maun be sair changed, grannie. He maun be turnin' auld by this
time.'

'Auld! Sic like 's yersel, laddie.--Hoots, hoots! ye're richt. I am
forgettin'. But nanetheless wad I ken him.'

'I wis I kent what he was like. I saw him ance--hardly twise, but a'
that I min' upo' wad stan' me in ill stead amo' the streets o' Lonnon.'

'I doobt that,' returned Mrs. Falconer--a form of expression rather
oddly indicating sympathetic and somewhat regretful agreement with what
has been said. 'But,' she went on, 'I can lat ye see a pictur' o' 'im,
though I doobt it winna shaw sae muckle to you as to me. He had it
paintit to gie to yer mother upo' their weddin' day. Och hone! She did
the like for him; but what cam o' that ane, I dinna ken.'

Mrs. Falconer went into the little closet to the old bureau, and
bringing out the miniature, gave it to Robert. It was the portrait of a
young man in antiquated blue coat and white waistcoat, looking innocent,
and, it must be confessed, dull and uninteresting. It had been painted
by a travelling artist, and probably his skill did not reach to
expression. It brought to Robert's mind no faintest shadow of
recollection. It did not correspond in the smallest degree to what
seemed his vague memory, perhaps half imagination, of the tall worn man
whom he had seen that Sunday. He could not have a hope that this would
give him the slightest aid in finding him of whom it had once been a
shadowy resemblance at least.

'Is 't like him, grannie?' he asked.

As if to satisfy herself onc