'Oh, weel, in a wey neither he has, for yin o' them lives in Auchensell an' the ither twae away in the back o' beyond, somewhere in Glencairn. They come to Thornhill only aince a year, at the Martinmas fair, an' of coorse Nathan stays at hame frae his wark, an' we've them doon here for their denner. Peasoup's a weakness o' the Hebrons, an' they're awfu' keen on pork ribs, so I mak' my bill o' fare to suit them. An' then, the time I'm cleanin' up, they a' sit roon the fire, an' Nathan smokes an' spits, an' his sisters sit strecht up in their chairs, lookin' frae the fire to the window, an' whisperin' to each ither. Ye see, Nathan brocht them up. They look on him in a wey as their faither, an' they defer to him even yet, an' aye wait on him speakin' first, so ye can understaun their tongues dinna gang juist like hand-bells; no, 'aith no, they do not. Nathan's fair, but they are dark an' swarthy, an' they a' wear black dolmans, 'lastic-sided boots, an' white stockin's, an' they aye come wi' umbrellas in their haun even though the weather's as dry as tinder. Thomasina frae Auchensell is the auldest, an' she's the only yin that has a family; an' when Nathan does say ocht it's aye her he speaks to, an' the ither twae juist sit an' mutter to yin anither, lookin' quite pleased an' satisfied. I'm used wi' them noo; but the first time I had them here I was at my wits' end. No' a word could I get oot o' them, an' Nathan--weel, I didna ken him very weel then either--_he_ could hardly be seen for pipe-reek, an' it was only because I couldna do the deaf an' dumb alphabet that I didna try it on them. An' mair than that, Maister Weelum, here's anither very queer thing. Do you know that their men--their marrit men, I mean--have never been inside this door. I've never met them, no' even seen them; an' Nathan--weel, I dare say he wad be at their waddin's, but I question if he wad stop an' speak to them if he met them on the king's highway. Oh, I tell ye, they're queer! Ye micht marry a Hebron, but ye never get into the family.' 'And what about Joe?' I asked. 'Does he join these annual reunions?' 'Catch Joe sittin' in the hoose on a Thornhill fair-day. No, no, Joe's ower keen on the pea-guns, an' the Aunt Sally booth, an' siclike to ha'e ony time to help Nathan to entertain his sisters. He's a queer, queer mixture is Joe; but his he'rt's in the richt place for a' that. Ha'e ye seen him the day?' 'Yes; I met him on the street, looking rather melancholy, I thought. You--you haven't put him under the pledge again, Betty?' 'Ye thocht he looked melancholy, did ye? Weel, he's under nae pledge to me. It's no' that that's putten him aboot. Puir Joe! puir Joe!' 'What is it, then, Betty?' She hesitated for a minute, and I at once apologised, thinking I was unconsciously prying into family affairs.