his lanky figure, and his sober countenance, on which a smile was
rarely visible, but from which burst occasional guffaws of laughter.

At the words 'droont himsel',' Mrs. Falconer started.

'Rin, laddie, rin,' she said, 'an' fess him back direckly! Betty!
Betty! gang wi' Robert and help him to luik for Shargar. Ye auld,
blin', doited body, 'at says ye can see, and canna tell a lad frae a
lass!'

'Na, na, grannie. I'm no gaein' oot wi' a dame like her trailin' at
my fut. She wad be a sair hinnerance to me. Gin Shargar be to be
gotten--that is, gin he be in life--I s' get him wantin' Betty. And
gin ye dinna ken him for the crater ye fand i' the garret, he maun
be sair changed sin' I left him there.'

'Weel, weel, Robert, gang yer wa's. But gin ye be deceivin' me, may
the Lord--forgie ye, Robert, for sair ye'll need it.'

'Nae fear o' that, grannie,' returned Robert, from the street door,
and vanished.

Mrs. Falconer stalked--No, I will not use that word of the gait of a
woman like my friend's grandmother. 'Stately stept she butt the
hoose' to Betty. She felt strangely soft at the heart, Robert not
being yet proved a reprobate; but she was not therefore prepared to
drop one atom of the dignity of her relation to her servant.

'Betty,' she said, 'ye hae made a mistak.'