ight
was the surest way to let Crombie see more clearly all that might be
said on the other side.

"She's a weel doin' lass," said Crombie.

"She is invaluable in the manse," said Mrs Beaton.

"It would unsettle them sadly to lose her, or even to have a doubtfu'
word spoken o' her," said Saunners.

"Especially just now, when Mrs Hume is not quite well," said Mrs
Beaton.

"And what say ye, John?" asked Saunners.

"Do ye feel responsible to this man--whatever his name may be--that ye
should wish to take up his cause? I mean, had ye any words with him
about her?" added John, as his mother touched his hand in warning.

"No' me! The wifie said he was ay waitin', and watchin', and speirin',
and there was a chance that he would have a word wi' me. I didna bide
to be questioned. I just took the road without loss o' time, whether it
was wise to do it or no."

"To my mind it was both wise and kind," said Mrs Beaton. "As ye say,
there may be truth in the story; but the telling of it here will be the
same thing to Allison Bain, whether it be true or false. She is alone
and friendless, it seems, and that a young lass should be spoken about
at all is a harm to her, and a word might be the means of sending her
out into the world without a friend. Surely the Lord was keeping His
eye on her for good when He sent her to the manse, and into the hands of
such a woman as Mrs Hume."

"Ay, that's the truth. And what say ye, John?"

"I say that my mother seldom makes a mistake when she lets herself speak
strongly about any matter. I agree with her that ye took the right
course when ye made up your mind to say nothing about the matter."

Crombie fidgeted in his chair, and was silent for a minute or two.

"I said nothing to the man himsel', but I did drop a word to Allison
Bain. She said nothing, but I saw by her face that she understood. I
only hope I may na hae done ill in speakin'."

The others hoped the same with stronger emphasis, and not without some
angry thoughts on John's part. But to speak the old man fair was the
wisest way. There was no time for many words, for Annie brought in the
tea, and Saunners was prevailed upon to stay and share their meal. When
it was over it was beginning to grow dark, and he rose to go, and John
rose also, saying he would go with him a bit of his way.

The talk between them as they went on was not of Allison, but of quite
other persons and matters, and it was kept steadily up