holding out the hand of good-fellowship.

The old man was completely taken aback. The instinct of hospitality,
which is held like a sacred thing among Shetlanders, bade him receive
with a measure of courtesy whoever chanced to come under his
"rooftree," but another instinct, as deeply rooted, and more ready to
exhibit itself, was also moving within him.

Fortunately no time was given him to choose between two courses. Signy
caught his hand between her own, kissed it with quick fervency, and
laid it in that of Fred, saying as she did so, "Dear Uncle Brues, for my
sake, for your own little Signy's sake."

They did not give him a single moment to recover himself--not a single
demon of hatred, jealousy, or pride got a chance to reassert its power
in time to prevent that hand-clasp; and before he could speak either,
the ground was half cut from under him!

As if they had been meeting every day, and were old friends, Fred said,
as their hands met, "How do you do? I see _you_ have triumphed where
even the famous geologist Congreve failed. We have chipped the rocks
for years, and Mr. Congreve has searched high and low, in Lunda and
Burra Isle, in every skerry and locality where that" (pointing to the
beautifully veined bits of mineral) "ought to be found, but without
success. Allow me to congratulate you on such a discovery. You are to
be envied, Mr. Adiesen. May I take a near view of your specimens?"

How it came about no one could ever tell, but a few minutes later
Yaspard and Aunt Osla, coming in much trepidation to the parlour, found
Fred and Mr. Adiesen in amicable conversation over the stones, while
Signy stood between her uncle's knees, with his arm around her, and his
fingers lovingly twined among her bright curls!

Aunt Osla was nervous and tearful, and would have made a scene, no
doubt, but for Fred's admirable tact. He addressed her, as he had done
the Laird, just as if they were ordinary acquaintances meeting in the
most matter-of-fact, every-day kind of manner. Wrath and sentiment
alike collapsed before such commonplace salutations, and both Mr.
Adiesen and his sister felt they would only make themselves ridiculous
if they met young Garson's simple civility with any expression of
deeper feelings.

So the conversation glided smoothly into the well-worn and useful
channels of ordinary talk about the weather, and the crops, and the
fishing, and "the South," until Miss Adiesen was at her ease enough to