"I have two new hand-looms coming next week," Mary continued; "and I am going to send to the Inverness Exhibition, and to Dudley House, if there is another bazaar held there; and I am going to give local prizes, too; and I may get over some of the Harris people to show them the best dyes, and so forth. But all that will take time; and in the meanwhile I am chiefly anxious to put myself right with the tenants by means of this commission and a complete revision of the rents. A commission they can trust—formed of people they know——" "They will be ill to please if they don’t meet you half way—and gladly," said young Ross. Mary Stanley’s eyes shone with pleasure at these hopeful words: she had not met with much encouragement hitherto. "Does Mr. Watson know Gaelic?" was her next question. "In a kind of a way, I should imagine," he said. "He is a south countryman; but I should think he knew as much Gaelic as was necessary for his business." "And to talk to the people about general things—about their crops—and their rents?" she asked again. "In a kind of a way he might." "But you—you know Gaelic very well?" she said. "I think I may fairly say that I do," he confessed frankly enough. "Then," said she, "if you could find the time, would not that be sufficient to form a commission—Mr. Watson, and you, and I? There would be no kind of conflicting interests; and we should all want to do what was equitable and right by the people." "Oh," said he, in a wondering sort of way, "there would be only these three—Mr. Watson, yourself, and I?" "Mr. Purdie," said she, "would simply be a kind of clerk——" And instantly his face changed. "Mr. Purdie," said he, "is he coming to take part in it?" "Only as a kind of clerk," she said quickly. "He would merely register our decisions. And of course he knows the people and all the circumstances; he could give us what information we wanted, and we could form our own judgment." But there was no return to his face of that sympathetic interest that she had read there for a brief moment or two. His manner had entirely altered; and as they were now close to Lochgarra House, he had to take his leave. "As far as I am concerned, Miss Stanley," said he, "I would rather leave this resettlement in Mr. Purdie’s hands. Intermeddlers only make mischief, and get little thanks for their pains." She was disappointed and hurt; and yet too proud to appeal further. He bade them good-bye—a little coldly, as Käthchen thought—and left; and Mary Stanley and her friend went into the house. All that Mary said was— "Well, we must do the best we can, Mr. Watson, Mr. Purdie, and myself. I don’t suppose Mr. Watson has any reason to be stiff-necked, and malevolent, and revengeful." A couple of days thereafter Mr. Purdie arrived; and the Little Red Dwarf appeared to bear with much equanimity the rating that Miss Stanley administered to him over his action in the James Macdonald case.