ry, I believe her heart's warm towards
him, but it's her pride, and that can only be broken down by deeply
moving her heart. Sure, sure, lass, there's no other way." He was
silent for a brief space and then went on, quietly, speaking to
himself, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the carpet. "And if the boots
don't reach her heart and soften it towards him, there's nowt in this
world that will, sure."

"Now, John, lad, don't ramble on like that; I'm right anxious. Tell me
what's in thy mind," broke in Mary, restlessly, seating herself on a
chair by his side.

"That I will, lass," answered John, briskly, shaking off his
contemplative mood, "for I believe we've now got the key to the
sitiwation. Thou remembers," he went on eagerly, "how, soon after
their little lad's death, the maister ordered that all his toys and
clothing should be taken away from the house, as he couldn't bear to
see 'em around?"

"I do, lad, I do, and it went hard wi' the missus to let 'em go; but
she didn't like to thwart the maister, he wur so restless and morbid.
But it never should have been done, lad; it wer'n't becoming like."

"Thou art reet, Mary, it wer'n't the thing to do; for in getting rid
o' the things nowt wur left to bring tender memories back to 'em o'
him, and so, having no common sorrow, their hearts grew narrow--as wur
to be expected--and they began to misunderstand each other and drift
apart. Sure as thou lives, Mary, getting rid o' the little lad's
things wur wheere the mistake came in, in their lives."

Springing excitedly to his feet, he continued quickly, "Thou remembers
the night, too, thou gave me the bundle wi' the little things in to
take to the charitable institoote? Well, I didn't go straight theere
wi' it; I took it first to my room and opened it, just to have one
more look at 'em; and lass, the first thing my eyes fell on wur a
little pair o' his boots--thou remembers the pair--the ones that had a
little hole in one o' the toes. Well, Mary, that little hole staring
me in the face touched my heart and melted it as few things in this
world ever did, and so, lass, I just couldn't send 'em away, and I
took 'em out and put 'em in my trunk, wheere they still are. Now,
Mary, if those little worn boots could break down such a real worldly
man as me--and when the lad wur not my own, too--does thou think for a
moment that, if the maister and the missus could be got to come across
'em just about at the same time, sweet memories,