Sullenly Macgregor took the cup from his mother’s hand and forthwith devoted his attention to his meal. Seldom had resentment taken such possession of his soul. Another word from his mother or Jimsie, and he would have retorted violently and flung out of the room. The mild intervention of his sister and father had saved a scene. Though his face cooled, his heart remained hot; though hungry, he ate little, including the freshly made toast, which he accepted with a gracelessness that probably shamed him even more than it hurt Jeannie. Poor sensitive, sulky youth!――a hedge-hog with its skin turned outside-in could not suffer more. For the first time in the course of his married life John Robinson really doubted Lizzie’s discretion. It was with much diffidence, however, that he referred to the matter after Macgregor had gone out, and while Jeannie was superintending Jimsie’s going to bed. “Lizzie,” he began, eyeing his cold pipe, “did ye happen to notice that Macgreegor was a wee thing offended the nicht?” Mrs. Robinson did not halt in her business of polishing a bread plate. “Macgreegor’s gettin’ ower easy offended,” she said, carelessly enough. John struck a match and held it without application to his pipe until the flame scorched his hardened fingers. “Speakin’ frae experience,” he said slowly, “there’s twa things that a young man tak’s vera serious-like. The first――――” “Wha’s the young man?” “Macgreegor.... Aw, Lizzie!” “Macgreegor’s a laddie.” “He’s a young man――an’ fine ye ken it, wife!” Lizzie put down the plate and took up another. “An’ what does he tak’ serious-like?” she enquired, coolly. “Firstly,” said John, with a great effort, and stuck. “Ye’ll be preachin’ a sermon directly,” said she. “Can ye no’ licht yer pipe an’ speak nateral?” “Hoo can I speak nateral when I ken ye’re makin’ a mock o’ me?” “Havers, man!” she said, becoming good-humoured lest he should lose his temper; “licht yer pipe. I’m listenin’.” John lit his pipe in exceedingly methodical fashion. “Weel, Lizzie,” he began at last, “I jist wanted to say that when a young man’s gettin’ hair on his face, ye――ye shouldna notice it.” “I didna notice it.” “Weel, ye shouldna refer to it.” “It was the cut I referred to.” John sucked at his pipe and scratched his head. “That’s true,” he admitted. “Still, if yer sister had a wudden leg, ye wudna refer to the noise on the stair. It wasna like ye, Lizzie, to hurt Macgreegor’s feelin’s.” Mrs. Robinson put down the plate with an unusual clatter. Hurt Macgreegor’s feelings!――She?――The idea! “Are ye feenished?” she snapped. John nerved himself. “There’s anither thing that it’s best no’ to refer to――anither thing that a young man tak’s vera serious-like. When a young man begins to tak’ an interest in the lassies――――” “Oh, man, can ye no stop haverin’?” she cried. “Ha’e ye forgot the laddie’s age?” “It’s the shavin’ age, an’ that means――――” “Ma brither Rubbert was nineteen afore he put a razor to his face.”