“Perhaps I think less of ladyships being more used to them,” cried Kirsteen, irritated beyond her self-control. “If ye bring her to shame instead of grandeur who will she thank then?” “To shame!” cried Mary. “Let them say that word that dare.” “But I dare! And I know them all, and what they think of him in his own family. And that he’s not safe for a girl like Jeanie to know. Aunt Eelen, you know them as well, and you know if what I say is true.” “Young weemen,” said Miss Eelen, “if ye think that words of strife are seemly in a house where the mother’s buried that day, it’s not my opinion. Kirsteen goes too far, though I would not say but there was reason in it,” she added after a moment “Whisht, both of you--here is the poor bairn herself.” The next morning Kirsteen, in her despair, took a still bolder step. She went to the door of the room in which Drumcarro was, and knocked for admittance. He stared at her as she came in with a lowering brow, and _humph_! of ungracious surprise, and stopped in his reading of the paper, but said nothing. “Father,” said Kirsteen, “I am going away to-day.” He gave her another lowering and stormy glance. “It is the best thing you can do,” he said. “You were never wanted here.” Kirsteen, wounded, could not refrain from saying, “My mother wanted me,” which was met solely by that impatient indifference which we render badly by the word _humph_! “But I did not come to speak of myself. I know,” she said, “father, that you like where you can to add on a little of the old Douglas lands to what you have already.” He gave her a more direct look, astonished, not knowing what she meant; then, “What o’ that?” he said. “No more than this--that money’s sometimes wanting, and I thought if the opportunity arose--I have done very well--I have some siller--at your command.” Drumcarro was very much startled; he dropped the newspaper which he had been holding before him, as an intimation that her visit was an interruption, and turning round stared at her for a moment with genuine surprise. Then he said, “Your mantua-making must have thriven. I would like to know one thing about ye, have you put my name intill your miserable trade?” “No,” she said; “so far as any name is in it, it is Miss Kirsteen.” He gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad at least that ye have not brought disgrace upon the name of Douglas.” “The name of Douglas will never get disgrace from me,” cried Kirsteen proudly, with an answering glance of fire. “There is no one that bears it that has more care of it than me. If you kept it in as great honour at home----” He laughed grimly. “My lass, you may trust me for that.” “I hope so, father; I hope there will be no speaking got up about the bonniest of us all--the youngest and the sweetest.”