Anne took the work--into no unknown or "'prentice hand," would it have been confided. Mrs. Catherine's "white seam" was elaborated into a positive work of art. Within her strong spirit, and covered by her harsh speech, there lay so much of that singular delicacy, which could endure nothing coarse or unsuitable, that the smallest household matters came within its operation. Mrs. Catherine had little faith in the existence of fine taste or delicate perceptions, in conjunction with a coarse or disorderly "seam." Would modern young ladies think her judgment correct? "Archie is in Portoran," said Mrs. Catherine, after a little time had elapsed, during which the fine work and cheerful conversation proceeded in brisk and pleasant unison. "There are still some matters to be settled with Mr. Foreman, and he expects the letter the day that will fix his going to Glasgow. We are nothing less than a bundle of contradictions, child, we unsatisfied human folk. It was my own special desire and wish that the lad should verily plunge himself into some labor for the redemption of his land; now I have a drither at letting him go away to a mere, hard money-getting work, where little of either heart or head is needed." "Little heart, perhaps," said Anne; "but, at least, the head must be very necessary, Mrs. Catherine." "You do not know," answered Mrs. Catherine. "Head! I tell you, child, I have seen divers in my youth who had gathered great fortunes by trade, and yet were vaporing, empty-headed, purse-proud fuils; beginning by running errands, and sweeping shops, and the like, and ending by making bairnly fuils of themselves, to the laughter of the vain and thoughtless, and to the shame of right-minded folk. We have other imaginations of merchantmen, child; we give them a state and circumstance that the men are as innocent of, as Johnnie Halflin out there. We think of the old days when merchants were princes, and of them that stood afar off, and wailed for Babylon. There are some such, doubtless, now, but it is not always the best that are the most fortunate. And to think of Archie living for years among folk to whom the paltry siller is the sole god and good in this world or the next. Maybe, child--maybe in the rebound of his carelessness, getting to like the yellow dirt himself for its own sake!" "No fear," said Anne. "Archibald is able to stand the probation in every way, I trust, Mrs. Catherine; and it is but a means--it is not an end." "Ay," said Mrs. Catherine. "The youth has a great stake.--He is a changed man, child, so far as we may form a judgment. Wherefore should I ever have doubted it? As if true prayers could lie unanswered before the Throne for ever!" Jacky opened the door. "If ye please--" "What you elf? Can you no speak out?" "It's--it's the man--the stranger"--Jacky remembered her former description of him, but scorned to repeat herself; "that came to the Tower with Mr. Foreman. If ye please, will I bring him in?"