“Bide here till I come back,” and ran up the stair. He knew his father was out, having gone back to the works to experiment with some new machinery. He found his mother alone in the kitchen. “Mither,” he said with difficulty, “I wish ye wud gi’e me five shillin’s o’ ma money.” He could not have startled her more thoroughly. “Five shillin’s, laddie! What for?” “I canna tell ye the noo.” “But――――” “It’s no’ for――for fun. If ye ask me, I’ll tell ye in a secret this day fortnicht. Please, mither.” She got up and laid her hands on his shoulder and turned him to the full light of the gas. He looked at her shyly, yet without flinching. And abruptly she kissed him, and as abruptly passed to the dresser drawer where she kept her purse. Without a word she put the money in his hand. Without a word he took it, nodded gravely, and went out. In one way Lizzie had done more for her boy in these three minutes than she had done in the last three years. Macgregor had a sixpence in his pocket, and he added it to the larger coins. “She can wait for her thruppence,” he said, giving the money to the astounded Willie. “Awa’ an’ pay her. I’ll maybe see ye the morn’s nicht. So long!” He walked off in the direction opposite to that which Willie ought to take. But Willie ran after him; he was pretty nearly crying. “Macgreegor,” he stammered, “I’ll pay ye back when I get ma first wages. An’ I’ll no’ forget――oh, I’ll never forget. An’ I’ll dae ye a guid turn yet!” “Ye best hurry in case she shuts her shop,” said Macgregor, and so got rid of him. While it is disappointing to record that Willie has thus far never managed to repay Macgregor in hard cash, though he has somehow succeeded in retaining the employment found for him by John, it is comforting to know that his promise to do Macgregor a good turn was more than just an emotional utterance. When, on the following Wednesday and Friday nights, he stealthily tracked Macgregor to the now familiar watching place, his motives were no longer curious or selfish, but benevolent in the extreme. Not that he could bring himself to sympathise with Macgregor in the latter’s devotion to a mere girl, for, as a matter of fact, he regarded his friend’s behaviour as “awfu’ stupid”; but if Macgregor was really “saft” on the girl, it behoved him, Willie, to do what he could to put an end to the existing misunderstanding. On the Friday night he came regretfully to the conclusion that the “saftness” was incurable, and he accordingly determined to act on the following afternoon. By this time his knowledge of the movements of M. Tod and her assistant was practically as complete as Macgregor’s, so that he had no hesitation in choosing the hour for action. He had little fear of Macgregor’s coming near the shop in daylight.