'I admit all you say, Betty, about your tenancy of the house, and I am sorry if what I have said has reopened a question which was settled so long ago to our mutual satisfaction. When this rest-cure was prescribed--when I was told that it was absolutely necessary I should take up my abode in the country--it was to you and to this room that my thoughts were at once directed. I wrote you I was coming--didn't even say by your leave--and planted myself, as it were, down on you, without inquiring whether or not it was agreeable and convenient to you. Now, believe me, Betty, I acted thus without a thought of your free tenancy of this my old home.' 'I ken that fine, Weelum,' she quickly said, and she looked thoughtfully towards me. 'Well, you see, Betty, if you won't allow me to contribute to my living here, you give me reason to assume that you consider you are in your own way working off an obligation; else why should I live on your--forgive the word, Betty--on your charity?' 'But then, Maister Weelum, you forget that I'm sittin' here rent free.' 'Now, Betty, there you go again. Was not that my mother's request?' 'Yes.' 'Well, she imposed no obligation on you?' 'No.' 'Then, Betty, none exists between us; and, in that case, if I remain here I must be allowed to contribute to the family expenses. Besides, Betty, it is not as if I were a poor man. Thank goodness! I can well afford it; for, between you and me and that bedpost against which you are leaning, I've made over a thousand pounds a year for these last four years.' 'Lovanenty, Weelum, a--a thoosan' pounds!' and she held up her hands in astonishment. 'Bless my life, is that possible? I hope ye made it honestly, my boy?' 'I certainly did,' I said glibly. 'I assure you, Betty, I made it honestly.' 'Imphm, an' you a lawyer!' said she dryly. She smiled, and after some reflection began to laugh heartily. 'Oh, come now, Betty, don't round on an old friend like that.' But Betty heard me not, for she was holding her sides and hotching with convulsive laughter. 'Oh, Weelum! oh, my boy!' she said, between her kinks, 'it's no' you--it's no' you I'm lauchin' at. It's something that happened at the weekly prayer-meetin' in Mrs Shankland's last Wednesday nicht. D' ye mind o' Dauvid Tamson the draper?' I nodded in the affirmative.