he can maybe button his 'spats'! That is, if he doesna get
the servant lass to do it for him. And Josiah Kettle! William, I wonder
you are not shamed, goodman--to sit there in your own hearth-corner and
name such a hypocrite to me----"

"Stop there, Mary," said her husband; "only a man's Maker has the right
to call him a hypocrite----"

"Well, I am an Elder's wife, and I'll e'en be his Viceroy. Josiah Kettle
_is_ a hypocrite, and I hae telled him so to his face--not once, but a
score of times. He has robbed the widow. He has impoverished the orphan.
Fegs, if I were a man, I could not keep my hands off him, and, 'deed, I
have hard enough work as it is. If there was a man about the house worth
his salt----"

"Forgive your enemies----" suggested my grandfather, "do good----"

"So I would--so I would," cried my grandmother, "but first I would give
the best cheese out o' the dairy-loft to see Josiah ducked head over
heels in Blackmire Dub! Forgive--aye, certainly, since it is commanded.
But a bit dressing down would do the like o' him no harm, and then the
Lord could take His own turn at him after!"

Thus did my grandmother address all who came into contact with her, and
there is every reason to believe that she had more than once similarly
exhorted Mr. Josiah Kettle, rich farmer and money-lender though he was.
Yet it is equally certain that if Mr. Kettle had been stricken with a
dangerous and deadly malady which made his nearest kin flee from him, it
would have been my grandmother who would have flown to nurse him with
the same robust and forcible tenderness with which she oversaw the
teething and other ills incidental to her daughter's children.

"As for Jocky Black," continued my grandmother, "the pomp of the
atomy--'In the name of the law,' says he--I'd law him! I would e'en nip
his bit stick from his puir twisted fingers and gie him his paiks--that
is, if it were worth the trouble! As for me, get me my bonnet, Jen--my
best Sunday leghorn with the puce _chenille_ in it--I must look my
featest going to a great house to pay my respects. And you shall come
too, Duncan!" (She turned to me with her usual alertness.) "Run home and
tidy--quick! Bid your mother put on your Sunday suit. No, Jen, I will
_not_ take you to fright the poor things out of their wits. Afterwards,
we shall see. But at first, Duncan there, if he gets over his blateness,
will be more of their age, and fear them less."

"If all I hear be true," said