her feet,
having no power to open her lips, never thinking that by her silence,
and by the unquiet light in her downcast eyes, more was revealed to her
faithful old friend than spoken words could have told.

"What is it my dear?" said Mrs Snow. "Is it pride or discontent, or is
it something worse?" Graeme laughed a little bitterly. "Can anything
be worse than these?"

"Is it that your brother is wearying of you?"

"No, no! I could not do him the wrong to think that. It would grieve
him to lose us, I know. Even when he thought it was for my happiness to
go away, the thought of parting gave him pain."

"And you have more sense than to let the airs and nonsense of his
bairn-wife vex you?"

Graeme was silent a moment. She did not care to enter upon the subject
of Arthur's wife just at this time.

"I don't think you quite understand Fanny, Janet," said she, hesitating.

"Weel, dear, maybe no. The bairns that I have had to deal with have not
been of her kind. I have had no experience of the like of her."

"But what I mean is that her faults are such as every one can see at a
glance, and she has many sweet and lovable qualities. I love her
dearly. And, Janet, I don't think it is quite kind in you to think that
I grudge Fanny her proper place in her own house. I only wish that--"

"You only wish that she were as able to fill it with credit, as you are
willing to let her. I wish that, too. And I am very far from thinking
that you grudge her anything that she ought to have."

"Oh! Janet," said Graeme, with a sigh, "I shall never be able to make
you understand."

"You might try, however. You havena tried yet," said Janet, gently.
"It is not that you are growing too proud to eat bread of your brother's
winning, is it?"

"I don't think it is pride. I know that Arthur considers that what
belongs to him belongs to us all. But, even when that is true, it may
be better, for many reasons, that I should eat bread of my own winning
than of his. Everybody has something to do in the world. Even rich
ladies have their houses to keep, and their families to care for, and
the claims of society to satisfy, and all that. An idle life like mine
is not natural nor right. No wonder that I weary of it. I ought not to
be idle."

"Idle! I should lay that imputation at the door of anybody in the house
rather than at yours. You used to be over fond of idle dreaming, but I
see none of it now. You are ay busy at som