“Dear, dear me!” Mrs. Eadie cried, with an anxious look from the old gentleman with his crisped lips to the young fellow standing much abashed beside him, “it’s that little lass again; but I take the blame to myself; I should never have trusted it out of my hands. Dear! dear! milk will may be do it. I wouldn’t like to try benzine or salts of lemon.” “Try what you like, but get it out,” said Mr. Joscelyn. “I’ll see you, Harry, when I come back from the Club.” “Oh, my bonnie young gentleman!” cried Mrs. Eadie, when they were left alone, “you have said something that’s gone against him! you have turned him the wrong way!” “I think everything is turning the wrong way,” said Harry, throwing himself into his uncle’s easy-chair. He was still so young and unaccustomed to trouble that the tears came hot to his eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Eadie, I’ll be off before he comes back; I’ll go straight off to my work, there’s nobody will turn the cold shoulder upon me there.” “No, no, Mr. Harry, no, no, my canny lad, you must not be so hasty. Besides, you know as well as I do there’s no train. It’s coming out just with blotting-paper; look! see! When he comes back he’ll have forgotten all about it, and I’ll make you up a nice little bit of something for your lunch, and you’ll ’gree again, and get his advice. He’s grand with his advice, and he’s awfu’ fond of giving it. Just you ask him for his advice, Mr. Harry, and you’ll ’gree like two birds in a nest. It’s aye how I come round the maister when he has cast out with me.” CHAPTER VIII. UNCLE HARRY’S ADVICE.