rd, "a man called
Inglis, wi' offices up in Clark Street, who does a deal of that class of
property"--it was evident that he admired such--saw a prospect of
getting tenants to take on the house at a higher rental. So, "knowing
well that Ellen was a wean and no' kenning what manner of wean she was,"
and hearing from some source that they were exceptionally friendless and
alone, served her with a notice that he was about to apply for an
eviction order. But Ellen had attended the court and told her story.

"By the greatest luck in the world I happened to be in court that day,
looking after the interests of a client of mine, a most respectable
unmarried lady, a pillar of St. Giles, who had been horrified to find
out that her property was being used as a bad house. Hee hee." He was
abashed to perceive that this young man was not overcome with mirth and
geniality at the mention of a brothel. "The minute I saw the wee thing
standing there in the well of the court, saying what was what--she
called him 'the man Inglis,' she did!--I kenned there was not her like
under the sun." She had won her case; but Mr. James had intercepted her
on the way out, and had stopped her to congratulate her, and had been
amazed to find the tears running down her cheeks. "I took the wee thing
aside." It turned out that to defend her home, and keep it ready for her
mother coming out from the hospital, she had to come down to the court
on the very day that she should have sat for the examination by which
she had hoped to win a University scholarship. "The wee thing was that
keen on her buiks!" he said, with caressing contempt, "and she was like
to cry her heart out. So I put it all right." "What did you do?"
Yaverland had asked, expecting to hear of some generous offer to pay her
fees, and remembering that he had heard that the Scotch were passionate
about affairs of education. "I offered her a situation as typist here,
as my typist had just left," said Mr. Mactavish James, with an ineffable
air of self-satisfaction. Yaverland had been about to burst into angry
laughter, when the old man had gone on, "Ay, and I thought I had found a
nest for the wee lassie. But a face as bonnie as hers brings its
troubles with it! Ay, ay! I'm sorry to have to say it."

Oh! it went slower and smoother like a dragged-out song at a ballad
concert. "There's one in the office will not leave the puir lassie
alone...." Yaverland had fumed with rage at the idea; and then had b