“Na, na; she’s nae relation. Ma aunt is Mrs. James Baldwin.” In the frankest fashion she gave a brief sketch of her position on the world’s surface. While she spoke she seated herself on the stool, and Macgregor, without thinking about it, subsided upon the chair and leant his arm upon the counter. Ere she ended they were regarding each other almost familiarly. Anon Macgregor furnished a small account of himself and his near relatives. “That’s queer!” commented Christina when he had finished. “What?” he asked, anxiously. “Ma Uncle James is a great frien’ o’ your Uncle Purdie. Your uncle buys a heap o’ fancy things frae mine, an’ he’s often been in oor hoose. I hear he’s worth a terrible heap o’ money, but naebody wud think it. I like him fine.” “Ye wudna like ma aunt fine,” said Macgregor. “No’ bein’ acquaint wi’ her, I canna say,” Christina returned. “But I believe if it hadna been for her yer uncle wud never ha’e made his fortune at the grocery trade――――” “Her! What had she got to dae wi’ ’t?” “Dear knows; but Uncle James says she egged him on to mak’ money frae the day she married him. But mony a woman does that. I wud dae it masel’――no’ that I’m greedy; I jist couldna endure a man that didna get on. I hate a stick-in-the-mud. It’s a fac’, though, that Mr. Purdie got the push-on frae his wife. An’ Uncle James says he’s no’ near done yet: he’ll be Lord Provost afore he’s feenished. Ye should keep in wi’ yer Uncle Purdie.” Macgregor scarcely heard her latter words. His Aunt Purdie responsible for his Uncle Purdie’s tremendous success in business! The idea was almost shocking. From his earliest boyhood it had been a sort of religion with him to admire his uncle and despise his aunt. Could any good thing come out of Aunt Purdie? “I doobt yer Uncle James doesna ken _her_ extra weel,” he said at last. “Oh, ma uncle’s a splendid judge o’ character,” she assured him. “Especially female character,” she added. “That’s why he married ma aunt an’ adopted me. I took his name, like ma aunt did when she married him. It was a love match, in spite o’ their ages. There’s grander names, but nane better, nor Baldwin. In ma youth I called it Bald-yin to tease ma aunt when she was saft on him. But never heed aboot that the noo. D’ye ken what astonishes me aboot yersel’?” “What?” asked Macgregor, startled. “That ye’re no’ in the grocery trade.” “Me! What for wud I be a grocer?” “What for are ye a penter? An’ yer Uncle Purdie has nae offspring. My! if I had had a chance like you!” She heaved a sigh. “I’m sure yer uncle wud ha’e ta’en ye into his business. Ye canna be sae stupid that he wudna gi’e ye even a trial. Nae offence intended.” “I could ha’e been in the business if I had wanted,” Macgregor replied, with some dignity. “He offered me a job when I left the schule. But, ye see, I aye had the notion to be a penter. I like to be movin’ ma han’s an’ feet.” “An’ what did yer parents say?”