“Oh! I want to spy into no secrets. Things of this kind are often turning up. They may say what they like against our Scotch law, but it prevents villainy now and then, that’s certain. Were you interested for the man or the leddy, if it’s a fair question? For it all depends upon that.” “In neither of them,” said Edgar. “It was a third party, whom they had injured, that I cared for. When is--Jeanie’s brother--expected back?” “He may come either the day or the morn,” said Mrs. MacColl. “I wish he was here, for mother’s very weak. Do you not think she’s weaker since the morning? I thought her looking just wonderful when I saw her first, but at twelve o’clock--What did the doctor think?” “He canna tell more than the rest of us,” said James Murray’s wife. “She’s going fast--that’s all that can be said.” And then there was a little pause, and everybody looked sad for the moment. They almost brightened up, however, when some hasty steps were heard overhead, and suspended their knives and forks and listened. Excitement of this kind is hard to support for a stretch. Nature longs for a crisis, even when the crisis is more terrible than their mild sorrow could be supposed to be. When it appeared, however, that nothing was about to happen, and the steps overhead grew still again, they all calmed down and resumed their dinner, which was an alleviation of the tedium. “She’s made a’ the necessary dispositions?” said James Murray’s wife, interrogatively. “My man is coming by the next steamer. No that there can be very muckle to divide.” “Nothing but auld napery, and the auld sticks of furniture. It will bring very little--and the cow,” said Robert Campbell. “Jean likes the beast, so we were thinking of making an offer for the cow.” “You’ll no think I’m wanting to get anything by my mother’s death,” said Mrs. MacColl; “for I’m real well off, the Lord be thanked! with a good man, and the bairns doing well; I would rather give than take, if there was any occasion; but Robert has aye had a great notion of the old clock on the stairs. There’s a song about it that one of the lassies sings. I would like that, to keep the bairns in mind o’ their granny. She’s been a kind granny to them all.” She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and Margaret and Jeanie MacColl cried a little. The rest of the company shook their heads, and assented in different tones. “Real good and kind, good and kind to everybody! Ower guid to some that little deserved it!” was the general burden, for family could not but have its subdued fling at family, even in this moment of melancholy accord. “You are forgetting,” said Edgar, “the only one of the family who is not provided for. What my grandmother leaves should be for little Jeanie. She is the only helpless one of all.” At this there was a little murmur round the table, of general objection. “Jeanie has had far more than her share already,” said one. “She’s no more to granny than all the rest of the bairns,” cried another.