being desirous of worrying you; and since it was no doings
of mine, I saw it could not be helped, and we'd have to make the best
of it."

"Oh, daddy! How could you? That's perfectly dreadful news!" the
artful Elizabeth cried, while her mother raised her eyes resignedly
upward and clasped her hands so tightly that they trembled. The Laird
thought his wife sought comfort from above; had he known that she had
just delivered a sincere vote of thanks, he would not have hugged her
to his heart, as he forthwith proceeded to do.

"Now, now, Nellie, my dear," he soothed her, "it's all for the best.
Don't cross your bridges before you come to them. Wait till I tell you
everything. That fox, Daney, had the common sense to call the girl on
the telephone and explain the situation; he induced her to come out
here and tease that soft-hearted moonstruck son of ours back to life.
And when Donald's strong enough to stand alone--by Jupiter, that's
exactly how he's going to stand!--We're not the slightest bit
compromised, my dears. The McKaye family is absolutely in the clear.
The girl has done this solely for Donald's sake."

"Hector McKaye," Jane declared, "you've really got to do something
very handsome for Andrew Daney."

"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth cooed.

"Dear, capable, faithful Andrew!" Mrs. McKaye sighed.

"Ah, he's a canny lad, is Andrew," old Hector declared happily. "He
took smart care not to compromise me, for well he knows my code. When
I rejected his suggestion that I send for the lass, Andrew knew why
without asking foolish questions. Well, he realized that if I should
ask her to come and save my son, I would not be unfair enough to tell
her later that she was not a fit wife for that son. As a matter o'
manly principle, I would have had to withdraw my opposition, and
Donald could wed her if he liked and with my blessing, for all the
bitter cost. I did not build The Dreamerie with the thought that
Donald would bring a wife like this Brent lass home to live in it,
but--God be thanked!--the puir bairn loves him too well to ruin him--"

He broke off, wiping his eyes, moist now with the pressure of his
emotions, and while he was wiping them, Mrs. McKaye and her daughters
exchanged frightened glances. Elizabeth's penchant for ill-timed humor
disappeared; she stood, alert and awed, biting her lip. Jane's
eyebrows went up in quick warning to her mother, who paled and flushed
alternately. The latter understood now why Andrew Da