“Is there a doubt of your staying here, Mrs. Steele?” “Dinna Mistress me,” said the cross old woman, whose fingers were now plying their thrift in a manner which indicated nervous irritation; “there was nae luck in the land since Luckie turned Mistress, and Mistress my Leddy. And as for staying here, if it concerns you to ken, I may stay if I can pay a hundred pund sterling for the lease, and I may flit if I canna, and so gude e’en to you, Christie,”--and round went the wheel with much activity. “And you like the trade of keeping a public-house?” “I can scarce say that,” she replied. “But worthy Mr. Prendergast is clear of its lawfulness; and I hae gotten used to it, and made a decent living, though I never make out a fause reckoning, or give ony ane the means to disorder reason in my house.” “Indeed!” said I; “in that case, there is no wonder you have not made up the hundred pounds to purchase the lease.” “How do you ken,” said she sharply, “that I might not have had a hundred punds of my ain fee? If I have it not, I am sure it is my ain faut. And I wunna ca’ it faut neither, for it gaed to her wha was weel entitled to a’ my service.” Again she pulled stoutly at the flax, and the wheel went smartly round. “This old gentleman,” said I, fixing my eye on the painted panel, “seems to have had HIS arms painted as well as Mr. Treddles--that is, if that painting in the corner be a scutcheon.” “Ay, ay--cushion, just sae. They maun a’ hae their cushions--there’s sma’ gentry without that--and so the arms, as they ca’ them, of the house of Glentanner may be seen on an auld stane in the west end of the house. But to do them justice; they didna propale sae muckle about them as poor Mr. Treddles did--it’s like they were better used to them.” “Very likely. Are there any of the old family in life, goodwife?” “No,” she replied; then added; after a moment’s hesitation, “Not that I know of”--and the wheel, which had intermitted, began again to revolve. “Gone abroad, perhaps?” I suggested. She now looked up, and faced me. “No, sir. There were three sons of the last laird of Glentanner, as he was then called. John and William were hopeful young gentlemen, but they died early--one of a decline brought on by the mizzles, the other lost his life in a fever. It would hae been lucky for mony ane that Chrystal had gane the same gate.” “Oh, he must have been the young spendthrift that sold the property? Well, but you should you have such an ill-will against him; remember necessity has no law. And then, goodwife, he was not more culpable than Mr. Treddles, whom you are so sorry for.”