will be out of it'--she hesitated a
moment, and her voice trembled as she added, 'as soon as we can move the
furniture; in a week, if possible.'

Still David lingered. 'It's just that--the furniture, I mean--that
she'll be after, I'm thinking. I know it's hard on you, missie. But you
must just be brave and the Laird's daughter; and, if you could make up
your mind to it, just see the leddy and her husband; they're no' bad,
though they're no' the quality.'

David M'Taggart had nursed Stella in his arms as a baby, and had been
the old Laird's right hand. In fact, when Mr. Wharton was deep in his
literary labours, David had kept things about the place straighter than
they would otherwise have been; and if his education had been better,
and he had been allowed, he would probably have managed the money
matters of his late master, and prevented the Laird allowing them to get
into the disastrous state they were found to be in after his death, of
which state the late Laird was, happily for him, though unfortunately
for his daughters, quite ignorant.

Stella listened to David's advice, and replied, 'Very well, David, I
will see this lady. What is her name?'

'It's a fine name--Mrs. Montague Jones she calls herself; but it's with
him I'd do business, if I may be so bold as to say so, for he's a fair
man, and not so keen on a bargain as she.'

To this piece of advice the girl made no reply, but followed the old
butler out of the room and down the wide staircase to the drawing-room.
At the door she paused involuntarily, as David threw it open for her and
announced, 'This is Miss Wharton, mem.'

The short, thick-set business man, who was standing looking out of one
of the windows, turned sharply round at the words; and, as he told his
wife afterwards, was 'fairly taken aback to see that beautiful young
lady standing there like a princess in the doorway and looking down upon
us.'

And his wife--a handsome woman herself, who was sitting at a table
examining some old silver, of which the Laird had a fine
collection--though she answered him rather sharply to the effect that
the 'looking down' ought to be on their side rather than the Whartons',
was conscious somehow of a feeling of inferiority. However, she rose,
and, coming forward, said civilly and kindly enough, 'I must apologise,
Miss Wharton, for this intrusion, and it's only because I think we may
be able to be of use to you'----Here Mrs. Montague Jones stopped
abruptly, f