“How dare ye! How dare ye say such things to me, Robert Burns? I willna’ die like that and ye canna’ frighten me with your grim forebodings.” He paused and glanced at them all in turn, then hastily opened the door. Just as he was stepping out, he turned slowly and looked at the white, patient face of his daughter. For a moment he regarded her in silence, then with a visible effort he addressed her. “Jean,” he said, and his voice was noticeably softer, “ye are welcome to come back to your home.” He cast a quick look at the lowering face of his son-in-law and added vindictively—“alone.” “Nay, never alone, father,” replied Jean sadly, looking at her husband’s frowning face. The old man turned with sudden fury upon them. “I’ll wait till sundown for my money,” he shouted, “but not a minute longer!” and he closed the door behind him with a vicious slam. Gilbert was first to break the depressing silence that ensued. He felt vaguely that all was not so well with his brother as he had been led to believe. “Forgive me, brother,” he murmured contritely, “for bringing this trouble on ye.” “Never mind, Gilbert; it was to be, I ken,” answered Rob absently. Gilbert was silent a moment. “But the money, Robert, is it—are ye——” he stammered, then stopped in embarrassed confusion. “’Tis the sum I expect from the sale of a poem. Jean, see if there is aught of the Posty.” She rose and went to the window and peered anxiously down the dusty road. “I didna’ have the ready money with me,” went on Robert lightly, as if it were a matter of small importance, “or I would have fixed it up at once. But ye shall hae the money, laddie, when my letter comes,” and he smiled reassuringly into Gilbert’s anxious face. “God bless ye, Robert; ye have taken a great load off my heart.” Jean returned to her seat by the hearth, and listlessly took up her needlework. “I fear Posty has forgotten us to-day,” she said in answer to Robert’s questioning look. [Illustration: “‘I’ll wait till sundown for my money,’ he shouted.”] A great fear seized his heart. For nearly a week he had hopefully awaited some word from Thompson. What could be the matter? “O God!” he prayed silently, “let him not fail me noo.” With a bright smile that sadly belied his anxious heart, he rose and, taking Gilbert’s arm, said gayly, “Come, brother, and see the new bairn that has been added to the flock this last year.” As they left the room Jean dropped her work in her lap and gazed after them with eyes filled with helpless tears of anxiety, at the thought of the hardships and suffering that lay in wait for them all.