He put his hand round his son’s arm. “Ye’re no’ to think, Macgreegor, that I wud stan’ in yer road when ye want to better yersel’. No’ likely! I never was set on bein’ a wealthy man masel’, but naethin’ wud mak’ me prooder nor to see you gang up in the world; an’ I can say the same for yer mither. An’ I can see that ye micht gang far in yer uncle’s business, for yer uncle was aye fond o’ ye, an’ I think ye could manage to please him at yer work, if ye was tryin’. _But_――ye wud need yer aunt’s favour to begin wi’, an’ that’s the bitter truth, an’ she’s no’ the sort o’ body that forgets what she conseeders an affront. Weel, it’ll need some thinkin’ ower. I’ll ha’e to see what yer mither says. An’ ye best no’ expec’ onything. Stick to the pentin’ in the meantime, an’ be vera certain afore ye quit the trade ye’re in. That’s a’ I can say, ma son.” Macgregor had no words then. Never before had his father seriously spoken at such length to him. His heart was heavy, troubled about many things. * * * * * Eight o’clock on Monday night saw him at the accustomed spot; on Wednesday night also he was there. If only Christina had been friends with him he would have asked her what he ought to do. Yet the mere glimpse of her confirmed him in his desire to change his trade. On the Wednesday night it seemed to him that she walked away from the shop much more slowly than usual, and the horrid thought that she might be giving some other “man” a chance to overtake her assailed him. But at last she was gone without that happening. On the way home he encountered Jessie Mary. She greeted him affably, and he could not but stop. “Lovely dance on Friday. Ye should ha’e been there. Ma belt was greatly admired,” she remarked. “Was it?” “I think I’ve seen the shop where ye bought it,” she said, watching his face covertly. “It’s likely,” he replied, without emotion. Jessie Mary was relieved; evidently he was without knowledge of her visit to the shop. Now that the world was going well with her again she bore no ill-will, and was fain to avoid any. For at the eleventh hour――or, to be precise, the night before the dance――she had miraculously won back the allegiance of the young man with the exquisite moustache, who served in the provision shop, and for the present she was more than satisfied with herself. So she bade Macgregor good-night, a little patronisingly perhaps, and hurried off to reward her recovered swain with the pleasant sight of herself and an order for a finnan haddie. Macgregor was still in the dark as to whether his father had mentioned to his mother the subject of that conversation at the docks. John had not referred to it again, and the boy was beginning to wonder if his case was hopeless. On the Friday night, however, just when he was about to slip from the house, his mother followed him to the door. Very quietly she said: