he fiddle and the fiddlestick
are in the music. Weel, then what's to do? Duty stands high above
pleasure, an' I must gie my heart to duty, an' my hands to duty, even
if I tread pleasure underfoot in the highway in the doin' o' it."

As she made these resolutions, some strong instinctive feeling induced
her to dress herself in clean clothing from head to feet, and then add
bright touches of color, and the glint of golden ornaments to her
attire. "I hae taken a new mistress this morning," she said, as she
clasped her gold beads around her white throat--"and I'll show folk
that I'm not fretting mysel' anent the auld one." And in some
unreasoning, occult way, this fresh, bright clothing strengthened
her.

Indeed, Margot was a little astonished when she saw her daughter. Her
husband had told her in a few words just how matters now lay between
Ballister and Christine, and she was fully prepared with sympathy and
counsels for the distracted, or angry, girl she expected to meet. So
Christine's beaming face, cheerful voice, and exceptional dress
astonished her. "Lassie!" she exclaimed. "Whatna for hae you dressed
yoursel' sae early in the day?"

"I thought o' going into the toun, Mither. I require some worsted for
my knitting. I'm clean out o' all sizes."

"I was wanting you to go to the manse this morning. I am feared for
the pain in my breast, dearie, and the powders the Domine gies me for
it are gane. I dinna like to be without them."

"I'll go for them, Mither, this morning, as soon as I think the Domine
is out o' his study."

"Then I'll be contented. How are you feeling yoursel', Christine?"

"Fine, Mither!"

"'Twas a grand ploy last night. That lad, Angus Ballister, danced with
a' and sundry, and sang, and ate wi' the best, and the worst o' us. I
was hearing he was going awa' for a year or mair."

"Ay, to foreign parts. Rich young men think they arena educated unless
they get a touch o' France or Italy, and even America isna out o'
their way. You wad think a Scotch university wad be the complement o'
a Scotch gentleman!"

"Did he bid you good-by? Or is he coming here today?"

"He isna likely to ever come here again."

"What for no? He's been fain and glad to come up here. What's changed
him?"

"He isna changed. He has to go wi' his uncle."

"What did he say about marrying you? He ought to hae asked your
feyther for ye?"

"For me?"

"Ay, for you."

"Don't say such words, Mither. There was no talk of