gus's first
thought as he read the telegram; his second was, "better sleep on it
first; women are dreadful hands at keeping a secret. She would be
fondling her with tears in her dear old eyes all the evening, and Mrs.
St. Clair is none so innocent, in spite of Jean and Lilian calling her
a woman-angel. Ay, but she is a bonnie lassie, though, and
brave-hearted as well," and the young minister's eyes grew misty as he
shut himself up in the study to keep himself safe from the temptation
of telling Aunt Jeanie.

He had a sore wrestle for it, though; but he prided himself on his
wisdom, when, after breakfast the next morning, he led the old lady
into the study, and, after bidding her prepare for a shock, informed
her that Mrs. St. Clair's husband, Sir Hugh Redmond, would be down
that very afternoon.

He might well call Aunt Jeanie soft, to see her white curls shake
tremulously, and the tears running down her faded cheeks.

"Eh, my lad--eh, Fergus," she sobbed, "Mrs. St. Clair's husband--the
father of her bairn. Oh, whatever will Jean say? she will be for
running away and hiding them both--she can not bide the thought of
that man."

"Aunt Jeanie," broke in Fergus in his most masterful voice, "I hope
you will not be so foolish as to tell Jean; remember I have trusted
this to you because I know you are wise and sensible, and will help
me. We have made ourselves responsible for this poor child, and shall
have to account to Sir Hugh if we let her give us the slip. I have
said all along that no doubt there were faults on both sides, only you
women will take each other's parts. Now, I am off to the farm to see
Lilian. Just tell Jean that I am expecting a friend, and she had
better choose a fine plump pair of chicks for supper; she will be for
guessing it is Lothian or Dan Ambleby, or one of the old lot, and she
will be so busy with her scones and pasties that one will hardly
venture to cross the kitchen." And then, begging her to be careful
that Mrs. St. Clair might not guess anything from her manner, Fergus
strode off to the farm to share his triumph and perplexities with
Lilian.

It was well for Aunt Jeanie that Fay was extremely busy that day,
finishing a frock for her baby; so she sat in her own room all the
morning at the window overlooking the orchard, and baby Hugh, as
usual, crawled at her feet.

He was a beautiful boy now, with the fresh, fair complexion of the
Redmonds, with rough golden curls running over his he