'"Weel, Tom," says I,' she continued, '"that's a' richt. Don't fash your mind aboot that." "But, Mrs Hebron," says he, "I canna help worryin' aboot it. I'm very sorry indeed, an' I trust my no' payin' ye the noo will no' put ye aboot?" "Not in the slichtest, Tom," says I; "mak' your time my time. I ken what ye've set your face to do, an' I couldna wish ye better luck in your endeavour if ye were my ain bairn." His he'rt filled, puir laddie, an' he thanked me, an' he began to tell me what a bother he had in gettin' in his money. He showed me twae accoonts, yin for fifty pounds an' anither for sixty-five, that have been lyin' oot for mair than a year. It seems that when he was in that big warehoose in Glesca he had some experience in the seed line, an', havin' a guid connection wi' groceries among the farmers roond aboot here, it struck him he could, wi' little mair expense, work the twae very profitably thegither. Weel, he started to do this, an' in the last twal'months he has selled an awfu' lot. But it appears that seed rins to money quickly, an' the twae accoonts ootlyin', an' aboot which he was so anxious, are, as it were, in this department. The want o' this money has keepit him very ticht, an' he's been aff baith his meat an' his sleep ower the heid o't. Weel, to mak' a lang story short, the farmers ha'e baith failed. Tom got word yesterday, an', as it's thocht they're gey bad failures, an' very little ootcome expected, he's nearly demented. He has gane ower his books, an' he sees he can pey twenty shillin's in the pound; but, to do that, it means handin' ower his stock, furniture, an' hoose, an' he'll come oot o't wi' nocht but the claes on his back. His wife, puir lassie, was in the nicht tellin' me a' aboot it. It was her ye heard greetin'. She has keepit a stoot he'rt an' a smilin' face to Tom; but whenever I put my haun kindly an' mitherly-like on her shooder she broke doon an' grat as if her he'rt was breakin', so I juist took the wee bundle o' spunk an' dejection in my airms, an' she had it a' oot there. Tom's gaun up to the lawyer the morn to hand everything ower to him, an' Mrs Jardine and the bairns are leavin' Thornhill on Friday to stay wi' her mither till Tom gets wark somewhere. Noo, Maister Weelum, I want your advice, an' if ye chairge me sax an' eightpence for it I'll--I'll juist no' pey't;' and a tear-drop broke from her eye as she smiled. She rose from her chair, laid aside her knitting, and coming over to my bedside, she put her hand on my arm. 'I've still got the hunder pounds in the bank which your mother left to me, Maister Weelum,' she said. 'Nathan an' me ha'e saved fifty mair. I never had a bairn o' my ain, an' thae three wee curly-heided angels o' Tom's ha'e worked their wey into my he'rt, an' I juist canna let them away. D'ye think the mistress--your mother, I mean--wad ha'e me gi'in' the money in this way?'