ghtened thee, I suppose?"

"That is one of the disagreeable things women have to get used to."

"How often must a woman say 'No!' in order to get used to it?"

"That depends on several small things; for instance I am very
sympathetic. I have a tender heart! Yes, and so I suffer."

"I am glad to know of thy sympathy. If I asked thee to marry a young
man whom I wished thee to marry, would thou do it--just to please
me?"

"It would depend--on my mood that day."

"Say, it was thy sympathetic mood?"

"That would be unfavourable. Of the others I should think, and I
should feel that I was cruel; if I took all hope from them."

"Thou wilt not be reasonable. I am not joking. Would thou marry Boris
to please me?"

"Boris has offended me. He must come to me, and say, 'I am sorry.' He
must take what punishment I choose for his rudeness to me. Then, I may
forgive him."

"And marry him?"

"Only my angel knows, if it is so written. Men do not like to do as
their women say they must do. Is there any man in the Orcades who
dares to say 'No,' to his wife's 'Yes?'"

"What of Sandy Stark?"

"Sandy is a Scot! I do not use a Scotch measure for a Norseman. Thou
art not a perfect Norseman, but yet, even in Edinburgh, there is no
Scot that could be thy measure. I should have to say--'thou art five
inches taller than the Scot at thy side, and forty pounds heavier, and
nearly twice as strong.' That would not be correct to an ounce, but it
is as near as it is possible to come between Norse and Scot."

"Thou art romancing!"

"As for the Norse women----"

"About Norse women there is no need for thee to teach thy grandfather.
I know what Norse women are like. If I did not know, I should have
married again."

"Well then, Barbara Brodie is a good specimen of a capable Norse woman
and I have noticed one thing about them, that I feel ought to be
better understood."

"Chut! What hast thou understood? Talk about it, and let thy wisdom be
known."

"Well then, it is this thing--Norse women always outlive their
husbands. Thou may count by tens and hundreds the widows in this town.
The 'maidens of blushing fifteen' have no opportunities; the widow of
fifty asks a young man into her beautiful home and makes him
acquainted with the burden of her rents and dividends and her share
in half a dozen trading boats, and he takes to the golden lure and
marries himself like the rest of the world. Thou would have been
re-married long ago but for