This was to be his final term, and he expected to deliver a
valedictory speech. The table in the best room, which he was permitted
to occupy as a study, was covered with notes, which he wished
copied--with books from which he was anxious to recite--with work of
many kinds, which was waiting for Christine's clear brain and fine
penmanship.

It had been waiting an hour and Neil was distinctly angry.

"Mother! Where at all is Christine?" he asked.

"She went to your brither Norman's cottage. His little lad isna as
weel as he should be."

"And my wark has to wait on a sick bairn. I'm not liking it. And I
have no doubt she is wasting my time with Cluny McPherson--no doubt at
all."

"Weel! That circumstance isna likely to be far out o' the way."

"It is very far out of _my_ way. I can tell you that, Mother."

"Weel, lad, there's no way always straight. It's right and left, and
up and down, wi' every way o' life."

"That is so, Mother, but my work is waiting, and it puts me out of the
right way, entirely!"

"Tut! tut! What are you complaining aboot? The lassie has been at your
beck and call the best pairt o' her life. And it's vera seldom she can
please you. If she gave you the whites o' her e'en, you would still
hae a grumble. It's Saturday afternoon. What's your will sae late i'
the week's wark?"

"Ought I not to be at my studies, late and early?"

"That stands to reason."

"Well then, I want Christine's help, and I am going to call her."

"You hae had her help ever sin' you learned your A B C's. She's twa
years younger than you are, but she's twa years ahead o' you in the
ordinary essentials. Do you think I didna tak' notice that when she
was hearing your tasks, she learned them the while you were stumbling
all the way through them. Dod! The lassie knew things if she only
looked in the face o' them twice o'er, and it took you mair than an
hour to get up to her--what you ca' history, and ge-o-graph-y she
learned as if they were just a bairn's bit rhyming, and she was as
quick wi' the slate and figures as you were slow. Are you forgetting
things like these?"

"It is not kind in you to be reminding me of them, Mother. It is not
like you."

"One o' my duties to a' my men-folk, is to keep them in mind o' the
little bits o' kindness they are apt to forget. Your feyther isna to
mind, he ne'er misses the least o' them. Your brother Norman is like
him, the rest o' you arena to lippen to--at a' times."

"I think