“Johnnie Hepburn is not an ill lad,” said Mr. Charles, inclining for the moment, if Marjory’s marriage was to be brought into the foreground, to seize on the easiest way of deciding it; “but in the meantime,” he added, recalling his thoughts, “neither marrying nor giving in marriage is in her head--or mine either--with three deaths in the family.” “Oh aye!” said Miss Jean; “ye need not tell me the importance of what’s happened. Both to us now living and to all the race, it’s a terrible thing to think of, that both sons should be swept away, and a poor little bairn with a strange woman of a mother, a mindless creature that kens none of our ways, should be all that’s left to succeed. Never since I mind has anything happened like it. However, we must all die; but there’s no the same necessity in marriage, and that’s why I’m speaking. I’m old, older than all them that’s gone. Before ye see me again, I may be on the road to Comlie kirkyard, beside the rest--which is one good thing,” Miss Jean added, with her sharp eyes twinkling, “of a maiden state like yours and mine, Charlie. No other family has any share in us. We are sure, at least, to lie with our own at the last.” “Ay, to be sure,” said Mr. Charles, who was not thinking of any such consolation, and who was glad to recur to his original subject. “We’ll live very quietly, and see no company. St. Andrews is one of the places where you can see many people, or few, according to your inclination; and I’ll have my quiet game, and May will have her sister to take up her mind. For the time being, Aunt Jean, I cannot see that we could do better; and I will always be at hand in case of that foolish young woman at Pitcomlie going wrong altogether.” “I would let her go as wrong as she likes,” said Miss Jean. “It’s aye shortest in the end to leave folks free to their own devices. When she’s done all the harm she can to herself and other folk, she will yield to them that knows better. But I must go and look after your dinners. You’ll miss your grand cook with all her made dishes, Charlie. I hear it was you that settled yon woman at Pitcomlie, and they tell me she’s to be married upon Fleming (the auld fool) and they’re to set up in some way of business. I cannot abide waste for my part, and when a woman that can cook--which she could do, I say it to your credit, though I hate a man that’s aye thinking of what he puts into him--goes and gives up her profession and marries a poor man that wants nothing but broth, or maybe a stoved potatoe----” “They should take up a tavern--they should take up a tavern,” said Mr. Charles, with some excitement. “Bless me! her collops are just excellent; and I know nobody that can serve you up a dish of fish and sauce, or salmon steak, or a tender young trout stewed in wine, followed with a delicate dish of friar’s chicken----”