e myself, yet abiding still and
waiting for my hand without the changing of a stitch! The Orrins were
no more than my loom wherewith to spin gold--but--they would not bide
as they were during my absences, however short.

"The worst of it all was that, having once begun to operate on their
own accounts, though most unfortunately and ill advisedly, they would
no longer confine themselves to legitimate business. Not only Jeremy,
but even Aphra must needs try to realize the most fantastic and
impossible combinations, like some poor drudging weaver who should
attempt to execute one of my patterns. It was not in them, the
hare-brained, mauling crew, and naturally enough they spoiled the web.

"First of all, there was the affair of that young vagabond's father,
the rich shopkeeper at Breckonside--rich, that is, not as I am rich,
but rich for a little town village anchored down on a dozen miles
square of fertile lands between the Bewick marshes and the uplands of
Cheviot.

"Now, I had always had it in my head that some day a trifle might be
made out of this Joseph Yarrow, senior. But he was a bold,
straight-dealing man, who knew that the nearest bank, or a good
investment through his lawyer, was the best way of keeping his head
whole on his shoulders. He went and came ostentatiously along both our
roads, by night or day--it mattered little to him. He had never more
than five shillings and a brass watch in his pockets. All his business
he did by cheque, and he was not at all ashamed to enter a shop, or
even accost a man on the street of a town where he was known, and ask
for the loan of five shillings--which was certain to be returned on the
morrow, with a pot of home-made jam or some delicacy from the crowded
shelves of his shop.

"Most people liked dealing with this man Yarrow. As for me, I never
could bear him. He had a scornful eye, not questing, like his son's
(whose neck I could twist), but merely sneering--especially when, at
distant market towns, he would hear me addressed as 'Laird,' which is
my rightful title. At such times he would smile a little smile that
bit like vitriol, and turn away. And I knew well enough that he was
thinking and saying to himself--'Miser Hobby--Miser Hobby!' Still, had
I had the sense to look at the matter in the right light, this should
have cheered me--that he only _despised_ me, I mean. For if Joseph
Yarrow, the cleverest man in all the neighbourhood, was not calling me
'M