as one fool, and his mother was
another." First she took him up on the score of prudence.

"You," said she, "are a beggarly painter, without a rap; Christie has
houses, boats, nets, and money; you are in debt; she lays by money every
week. It is not prudent on her part to take up with you--the better your
bargain, my lad."

Under the head of common sense, which she maintained was all on the same
side of the question, she calmly inquired:

"How could an old woman of sixty be competent to judge how far human
happiness depends on love, when she has no experience of that passion,
and the reminiscences of her youth have become dim and dark? You might
as well set a judge in court, that has forgotten the law--common sense,"
said she, "the old wife is sixty, and you are twenty--what can she do
for you the forty years you may reckon to outlive her? Who is to keep
you through those weary years but the wife of your own choice, not your
mother's? You English does na read the Bible, or ye'd ken that a lad is
to 'leave his father and mother, and cleave until his wife,'" added she;
then with great contempt she repeated, "common sense, indeed! ye're fou
wi' your common sense; ye hae the name o' 't pat eneuch--but there's na
muckle o' that mairchandise in your harns."

Gatty was astonished. What! was there really common sense on the side of
bliss? and when Jean told him to join her party at Inch Coombe, or never
look her in the face again, scales seemed to fall from his eyes; and,
with a heart that turned in a moment from lead to a feather, he vowed he
would be at Inch Coombe.

He then begged Jean on no account to tell Christie the struggle he had
been subjected to, since his scruples were now entirely conquered.

Jean acquiesced at once, and said: "Indeed, she would be very sorry to
give the lass that muckle pain."

She hinted, moreover, that her neebor's spirit was so high, she was
quite capable of breaking with him at once upon such an intimation; and
she, Jean, was "nae mischief-maker."

In the energy of his gratitude, he kissed this dark-browed beauty,
professing to see in her a sister.

And she made no resistance to this way of showing gratitude, but
muttered between her teeth, "He's just a bairn!"

And so she went about her business.

On her retreat, his mother returned to him, and, with a sad air, hoped
nothing that that rude girl had said had weakened his filial duty.

"No, mother," said he.

She then, without e