All this was very pretty fooling; but Drumcarro was not the man to be kept hanging upon the chances of a propitious moment when it might please the wooer to make the leap. The additional cheerfulness of the household did not extend to him. He became very tired of Glendochart’s “daidling,” and of the over-delicacy of his attentions. His eyes grew fiery and his grizzled eyebrows menacing. He would come into the parlour where the visitor was making himself very agreeable, keeping up the pleasantest conversation, paying compliments to Mrs. Douglas (whose health had greatly improved at this period), and with a devotion which was half fatherly, though he had no such intention, distinguishing Kirsteen who was always pleased to think that he liked her best. Drumcarro would come in with his hands thrust into the depths of his pockets, and his shoulders up to his ears. “Are ye not tired of the weemen, Glendochart? Weel, I would not sit there phrasin’ and smilin’, not for a king’s ransom.” “Perhaps, my friend, I’m getting more than any king’s ransom, for what could buy such kind looks?” the old beau would reply. And then Drumcarro, with an oath muttered under his breath, would fling out again, not concealing his impatience, “I cannot put up with such daidling!” Whether Glendochart understood, or whether his host took the matter into his own hands, never was known by the female portion of the household. But one morning shortly after the New Year, Glendochart having paid a long visit on the day before, Kirsteen received a most unexpected summons to attend her father in his own room. “My father wants to speak to me! You are just sending me a gowk’s errand,” she said to Jock who brought the message. “It’s no a gowk’s errand. It’s just as true as death,” said Jock. “He’s sent me hissel’.” “And what can he want to say to me in his own room?” cried Kirsteen. “He did not tell me what he wanted to say; but I can guess what it is,” said Jock. “And so can I,” said Jeanie. “What is it, ye little mischief?” cried Kirsteen. “I have done nothing. I have a conscience void of offence, which is more than you can say.” Upon this they both gave vent to a burst of laughter loud and long. “It’s about your auld joe, Kirsteen. It’s about Glendochart,” they cried in concert. “About Glendochart?--he is just my great friend, but there is no harm in that,” she cried. “Oh, Kirsteen, just take him, and I’ll come and live with ye,” said Jeanie. “And I’ll come,” added Jock encouragingly, “whenever we have the play.” “Take him!” said Kirsteen. She bade them with great dignity to hold their tongues and went to her father’s room with consternation in her breast.