was now on his way home. Graeme scarcely answered him, but stood
watching him, with the troubled look deepening on her face, as he went
slowly down the road.

Mr Snow had changed a good deal within these few years. He had grown a
great deal greyer and graver, and Graeme thought, with a little pang of
remorse, as she saw him disappear round the turn of the road, that she
had, by her coldness, made him all the graver. And yet she only half
regretted it; and the vexed look came back to her face again, as she
gathered up her work that had fallen to the ground and turned toward the
house.

There was no one in the usual sitting-room, no one in the bright kitchen
beyond, and, going to the foot of the stairs, Graeme raises her voice,
which has an echo of impatience in it still, and calls:

"Mrs Nasmyth."

For Janet is oftener called Mrs Nasmyth than the old name, even by the
bairns now, except at such times as some wonderful piece of coaxing is
to be done, and then she is Janet, the bairn's own Janet still. There
was no coaxing echo in Graeme's voice, however, but she tried to chase
the vexed shadow from her face as her friend came slowly down the
stairs.

"Are you not going to sit down?" asked Graeme, as she seated herself on
a low stool by the window. "I wonder where the bairns are?"

"The bairns are gone down the brae," said Mrs Nasmyth; "and I'm just
going to sit down to my seam a wee while."

But she seemed in no hurry to sit down, and Graeme sat silent for a
little, as she moved quietly about the room.

"Janet," said she, at last, "what brings Deacon Snow so often up here of
late?"

Janet's back was toward Graeme, and, without turning round, she
answered:

"I dinna ken that he's oftener here than he used to be. He never stayed
long away. He was ben the house with the minister. I didna see him."
There was another pause.

"Janet," said Graeme again, "what do you think Mrs Greenleaf told me
all Merleville is saying?"

Janet expressed no curiosity.

"They say Deacon Snow wants to take you down the brae."

Still Mrs Nasmyth made no answer.

"He hasna ventured to hint such a thing?" exclaimed Graeme
interrogatively.

"No' to me," said Janet, quietly, "but the minister."

"The minister! He's no' blate! To think of him holding up his face to
my father and proposing the like of that! And what did my father say?"

"I dinna ken what he said to him; but to me he said he was well pleased
that it sh