"How mean that sounds! Oh, if I were a man I would wish to be everything that I am not, and nothing that I am. I would scorn to be a liar, I would choose to be open in all things, I would try to fight the world honestly. But I am only a woman, and so--well, that is the kind of man I would like to marry." "A minister may be all these things," said Gavin breathlessly. "The man I could love," Babbie went on, not heeding him, almost forgetting that he was there, "must not spend his days in idleness as the men I know do." "I do not." "He must be brave, no mere worker among others, but a leader of men." "All ministers are." "Who makes his influence felt." "Assuredly." "And takes the side of the weak against the strong, even though the strong be in the right." "Always my tendency." "A man who has a mind of his own, and having once made it up stands to it in defiance even of--" "Of his session." "Of the world. He must understand me." "I do." "And be my master." "It is his lawful position in the house." "He must not yield to my coaxing or tempers." "It would be weakness." "But compel me to do his bidding; yes, even thrash me if-" "If you won't listen to reason. Babbie," cried Gavin, "I am that man!" Here the inventory abruptly ended, and these two people found themselves staring at each other, as if of a sudden they had heard something dreadful. I do not know how long they stood thus motionless and horrified. I cannot tell even which stirred first. All I know is that almost simultaneously they turned from each other and hurried out of the wood in opposite directions. LOST ILLUSIONS From 'Sentimental Tommy' To-morrow came, and with it two eager little figures rose and gulped their porridge, and set off to see Thrums. They were dressed in the black clothes Aaron Latta had bought for them in London, and they had agreed just to walk, but when they reached the door and saw the tree-tops of the Den they--they ran. Would you not like to hold them back? It is a child's tragedy. They went first into the Den, and the rocks were dripping wet, all the trees save the firs were bare, and the mud round a tiny spring pulled off one of Elspeth's boots. "Tommy," she cried, quaking, "that narsty puddle can't not be the Cuttle Well, can it?" "No, it ain't," said Tommy, quickly, but he feared it was. "It's c-c-colder here than London," Elspeth said, shivering, and Tommy was shivering too, but he answered, "I'm--I'm--I'm warm." The Den was strangely small, and soon they were on a shabby brae, where women in short gowns came to their doors and men in night-caps sat down on the shafts of their barrows to look at Jean Myles's bairns. "What does yer think?" Elspeth whispered, very doubtfully. "They're beauties," Tommy answered, determinedly. Presently Elspeth cried, "Oh, Tommy, what a ugly stair! Where is the beauty stairs as it wore outside for show?"