r novelles?" said he. "Ay, woman; will it be a good story?"

She rose in a nervous flutter when she saw him; yet needlessly shrill in
her defence, because she was angry at detection.

"Ah, well!" she cried, in weary petulance, "it's an unco thing if a
body's not to have a moment's rest after such a morning's darg! I just
sat down wi' the book for a little, till John should come till his
breakfast!"

"So?" said Gourlay. "God, ay!" he went on; "you're making a nice job of
_him_. _He_'ll be a credit to the house. Oh, it's right, no doubt, that
_you_ should neglect your work till _he_ consents to rise."

"Eh, the puir la-amb," she protested, dwelling on the vowels in fatuous,
maternal love; "the bairn's wearied, man! He's ainything but strong, and
the schooling's owre sore on him."

"Poor lamb, atweel," said Gourlay. "It was a muckle sheep that dropped
him."

It was Gourlay's pride in his house that made him harsher to his wife
than others, since her sluttishness was a constant offence to the order
in which he loved to have his dear possessions. He, for his part, liked
everything precise. His claw-toed hammer always hung by the head on a
couple of nails close together near the big clock; his gun always lay
across a pair of wooden pegs, projecting from the brown rafters, just
above the hearth. His bigotry in trifles expressed his character. Strong
men of a mean understanding often deliberately assume, and passionately
defend, peculiarities of no importance, because they have nothing else
to get a repute for. "No, no," said Gourlay; "you'll never see a brown
cob in _my_ gig--I wouldn't take one in a present!" He was full of such
fads, and nothing should persuade him to alter the crotchets, which, for
want of something better, he made the marks of his dour character. He
had worked them up as part of his personality, and his pride of
personality was such that he would never consent to change them. Hence
the burly and gurly man was prim as an old maid with regard to his
belongings. Yet his wife was continually infringing the order on which
he set his heart. If he went forward to the big clock to look for his
hammer, it was sure to be gone--the two bright nails staring at him
vacantly. "Oh," she would say, in weary complaint, "I just took it to
break a wheen coals;" and he would find it in the coal-hole, greasy and
grimy finger-marks engrained on the handle which he loved to keep so
smooth and clean. Innumerable her offence