they were imperfections which men had and
women had not, and the women must put up with them. Sins?--well, yes, I
suppose getting drunk is a sin, if you come to think about it; but so is
getting into a passion, and telling falsehoods, and plenty more things
which one thinks little or nothing about, because one sees everybody do
them every day. It is only the extra good people, like my Aunt Kezia,
and Flora, and Mr Keith, that put on grave faces about things of that
kind.

But stay! God must be better than the extra good people. Then will He
not think even worse of such things than they do?

It was just because those three seemed to think it so awful, and to be
inclined to make a fuss over it, that I did not like to hear what Angus
said about Father. Grandmamma never thought anything about it; she
always said drinking and gaming were gentlemanly vices, which the King
himself--(I mean, of course, the Elector, but Grandmamma said the
King)--need not be ashamed of practising.

I listened rather uneasily for Mr Keith's answer. I am beginning to
feel a good deal of respect for his opinion and himself, and I did not
want to hear him say anything about Father that was not agreeable. But
he put it quietly aside.

"If you please, Angus, we will let other people alone. Both you and I
shall find our own sins quite enough to repent of, I expect. You have
not answered my question, Angus."

"What question?" grumbled Angus. I fancy he did not want to answer it.

"Would you, three months since, have let your father see and hear what
you have let me do within even the last week?"

Angus growled something in the bottom of his throat which I could not
make out.

Mr Keith's tone changed suddenly.

"Angus, dear old fellow, are you happier now than you were then?"

"Duncan, I am the most miserable wretch that ever lived! I want no
preaching to, I can tell you. That last text my father preached from
keeps tolling in my ear like a funeral bell--and it is all the worse
because it comes in his voice: `Remember from whence thou art fallen!'
Don't I remember it? Do I want telling whence I have fallen? Haven't I
made a thousand resolves never, _never_ to fail again, and the next time
I get into company, all my resolves melt away and my hard knots come
undone, and I feel as strong as a spoonful of water, and any of them can
lead me that tries, like an animal with a ring through his nose?"

"Water is not a bad comparison, An