d
did there according to the manner of his kind. Meysie had been to some
extent to blame for this, as had also his father. The minister himself,
absorbed in his books and in his sermons, had only given occasional
notice to the eager, ill-balanced boy who was growing up in his home. He
had given him, indeed, his due hours of teaching till he went away to
school, but he had known nothing of his recreations and amusements.
Meysie, who was by no means dumb though she was undoubtedly deaf, kept
dinning in his ears that he must take his place with the highest in the
land, by which she meant the young Laird of Cairnie and the Mitchels of
Mitchelfleld. Some of these young fellows were exceedingly ready to show
Clement Symington how to squander his ducats, and when he took the road
to London he went away a pigeon ready for the plucking. The waters
closed over his head, and so far as his father was concerned there was
an end of him.

Elspeth Symington, the baby girl, turned out a child of another type.
Strong, masculine, resolute, with some of the determination of the old
slave-driving grandfather in her, she had from an early age been under
the care of a sister of her mother's. And with her she had learned many
things, chiefly that sad lesson--to despise her father. It had never
struck Mr. Symington in the way of complaint that he had no art or part
in his wife's fortune, so that he was not disappointed when he found
himself stranded in the little cottage by the Clints of Drumore with
thirty pounds a year. He was lonely, it was true, but his books stood
between him and unhappiness. Also Meysie, deaf and cross, grumbled and
crooned loyally about his doors.

This wintry morning there was no fire in the room which was called by
the minister the "study"--but by Meysie, more exactly and descriptively,
"ben the hoose." The minister had written on Meysie's slate the night
before that, as the peats were running done and no one could say how
long the storm might continue, no fire was to be put in the study the
next day.

So after Mr. Symington had eaten his porridge, taking it with a little
milk from their one cow--Meysie standing by the while to "see that he
suppit them"--he made an incursion or two down the house to the "room"
for some books that he needed. Then Meysie bustled about her work and
cleaned up with prodigious birr and clatter, being utterly unable to
hear the noise she made. The minister soon became absorbed in his book