This morning, however, when she brought up my ante-breakfast cup of tea, she reverted to the subject without any preliminaries. 'Man, Maister Weelum,' she began, 'I've juist been takin' anither look roon' the dinin'-room. Noo, since we've got it done up it's the first thing I do in the mornin' an' the last at nicht; an', do ye know, I feel quite prood an' important when I'm puttin' a nice white cover on the big table, an' the silver candelabra in the centre o't. But, oh man, since yesterday I'm positively he'rt-sorry for thae auld frames. In a mainner it's my pleesure spoiled; to me it's a case o' deid flies in the ointment, ye understaun? Imphm! an' I'm gettin' fair angry at the new yin hangin' oot so prominently an' skinklin' as if to chaw the ithers. Dod, I imagine it's laughin' an' jeerin' at them. Noo, Maister Weelum, twae sixpenny bottles o' John Boyes's gold spread oot thin would amaist do the whole lot, an'--an' I'll put it on mysel'. I'm rale knacky wi' a brush. It'll no' come to much--imphm! the cost'll be very little. What think ye?' 'I don't know, Betty, I'm sure. I'm sorry to know the old frames annoy your eye. Personally I like the old ones better than the new one; but I'll tell you what, Betty,' I said gleefully, as a happy thought struck me; 'we'll get the new frame coated over with some sort of stuff to dull it down a bit. They'll be all alike then. How would that do?' 'It'll no' do at a', Maister Weelum,' she said emphatically. 'That picter maunna be touched. No! no! It has some history, or I'm cheated. Time will prove'---- A sudden loud knocking echoed through the house and cut short her sentence. 'Mercy me, what a bang!' she said. 'That's Milligan the postman, an' as sure as my name's Betty Grier he'll bash through that door some day;' and, to my relief--for she was stumbling into 'kittle' ground--she hurried downstairs. Since I came here my correspondence has become almost a negligible quantity. I rarely write to any one, and the few letters I receive are of a more or less private business character. I had two this morning--one from the treasurer of my club reminding me my subscription is due at the end of this month, and the other from my partner, Murray Monteith, who, after alluding to minor matters, writes as follows: