ng Mr.
McLean that curiosity is essentially a woman's ailment, and up you come
ahint to prove it." He shook a finger at her reprovingly, and was
probably still reflecting on woman's ways when Grizel walked home at
midnight breathing through her nose, and Tommy fell asleep with his
mouth open. For Tommy could never have stood the doctor's test of a man.
In the painting of him, aged twenty-four, which was exhibited in the
Royal Academy, his lips meet firmly, but no one knew save himself how he
gasped after each sitting.

CHAPTER XXVIII

BUT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MISS KITTY

The ottoman whence, as Gavinia said, Miss Ailie produced the presents
she gave to Mr. McLean, stood near the door of the blue-and-white room,
with a reel of thread between, to keep them apart forever. Except on
washing days it was of a genteel appearance, for though but a wooden
kist, it had a gay outer garment with frills, which Gavinia starched,
and beneath this was apparel of a private character that tied with
tapes. When Miss Ailie, pins in her mouth, was on her knees arraying the
ottoman, it might almost have been mistaken for a female child.

The contents of the ottoman were a few trivial articles sewn or knitted
by Miss Kitty during her last illness, "just to keep me out of languor,"
she would explain wistfully to her sister. She never told Miss Ailie
that they were intended for any special person; on the contrary, she
said, "Perhaps you may find someone they will be useful to," but almost
without her knowing it they always grew into something that would be
useful to Ivie McLean.

"The remarkable thing is that they are an exact fit," the man said
about the slippers, and Miss Ailie nodded, but she did not think it
remarkable.

There were also two fluffy little bags, and Miss Ailie had to explain
their use. "If you put your feet into them in bed," she faltered,
"they--they keep you warm."

McLean turned hastily to something else, a smoking-cap. "I scarcely
think this can have been meant for me," he said; "you have forgotten how
she used to chide me for smoking."

Miss Ailie had not forgotten. "But in a way," she replied, flushing a
little, "we--that is, Kitty--could not help admiring you for smoking.
There is something so--so dashing about it."

"I was little worthy all the friendship you two gave me, Ailie," he told
her humbly, and he was nearly saying something to her then that he had
made up his mind to say. The time came a fe