There are people in the world who seem hopelessly unloveable until you――perforce, perhaps――ask of them a purely personal favour. There may even be people who leave the world with their fountains of goodwill still sealed simply because no one had the courage or the need to break the seals for them. Until to-day the so-called favours of Aunt Purdie had been mere patronage and cash payments. Even now she could not help speaking patronisingly to Macgregor, but through the patronage struggled a kindliness and sympathy of which her relations so long used to her purse-pride, her affectations, her absurdities, could never have imagined her capable. She made no reference to the past; she suggested no difficulties for the present; she cast no doubts upon the future. Her nephew, she declared, had done wisely in coming to her; she would see to it that he got his chance. It seemed to Macgregor that she promised him ten times all he would have dreamed of asking. Finally she bade him stay to dinner and see his uncle; then perceiving his anxiety to get home and possibly, also, his dread of offending her by expressing it, she invited him for the following Sunday evening, and sent him off with a full heart and a light head. * * * * * He burst into the kitchen, bubbling over with his wonderful news. During its recital John gave vent to noisy explosions of satisfaction, Jeannie beamed happily, Jimsie stared at his transformed big brother, and Lizzie, though listening with all her ears, began quietly to prepare her son’s tea. “An’ so she treated ye weel, Macgreegor,” said John, rubbing his hands, while the speaker paused for words. “She did that! An’ I’m to get dooble the wages I’m gettin’ the noo, an’ I’ve to spend the half o’ them on night classes, for, ye see, I’m to learn _everything_ aboot the business, an’ then――――” Said Lizzie gently: “Wud ye like yer egg biled or fried, dearie?” * * * * * It was nearly eight o’clock when he reached the shop, and he decided to wait at a short distance from the window until Christina came out. He was not going to risk interruption by the old woman or a late customer; he would tell his wonderful tale in the privacy of the busy pavement, under the secrecy of the noisy street. Yet he was desperately impatient, and with every minute after the striking of the hour a fresh doubt assailed him. At last the lights in the window went out, and the world grew brighter. Presently he was moving to meet her, noting dimly that she was wearing a bigger hat than heretofore. She affected surprise at the sight of him, but not at his eagerly whispered announcement: “I’ve got it!” “Good for you,” she said kindly, and refrained from asking him, teasingly, where he thought he was going. “It was lovely at the theatre,” she remarked, stepping forward. “Dae ye no’ want to hear aboot it?” he asked, disappointed, catching up with her.