"But why?" Mr. Wycherly asked. "There must be many expenses, many extra expenses since the children came——" "When the bairnies came," said Elsa, looking severely at Mr. Wycherly, "you gave me three ten-pound notes, and ever since I’ve been deceiving the mistress. Twenty-five pounds have I spent in groceries and odds and ends, and she so surprised—like that the bairns didna’ mak’ so great a difference—and I just daurna gae on. I’m fear’d. If she was ever to ken—and she’s that gleg in the uptak, she’ll ken somehow, an’ it’s me she’ll blame, and no you." Elsa’s voice broke. The favour of her mistress was very precious to her, and as yet she could not feel that Miss Esperance had quite forgiven her for her indiscretion of the night before. Mr. Wycherly had obtained quite a large sum of money for the valuable books he sold when he and Miss Esperance went to fetch the children, and on their return he had given thirty pounds to Elsa, bidding her get any extras that might be necessary, without troubling her mistress. At the time Elsa had taken the money willingly enough, for she felt that it would be more usefully expended in her hands than if Mr. Wycherly kept it. "He’ll just waste it on some haver of a bit book," she said to herself, and salved her conscience with this reflection; and it had, undoubtedly, tided the little household over a difficult time. But now, she felt, this cooking of the household books could not go on. It must come to an end with the money, and her mistress would wonder why, all at once, the weekly expenses had increased so mightily. Searching inquiries would be made. Elsa knew that she could not lie to Miss Esperance, and she came to the conclusion that as the money was his, it would be better that Mr. Wycherly should make the necessary explanation and bear the blame. She would be his accomplice in this innocent deception no longer. Therefore did she take from her pocket a screw of paper which she unfolded, displaying the five sovereigns wrapped in it, and laid them down on Mr. Wycherly’s desk in a row. "I can give an account for every penny of the twenty-five pound," said Elsa, turning away from the table, "and you maun just tell her the truth—sir. The tradesman’s books’ll be gey and big this week," she added, significantly. Mr. Wycherly leant back in his chair and gazed helplessly at Elsa, who was now removing his breakfast things with her customary clatter. She would not meet his eye, for an uneasy feeling that she had "gone back on him" to a certain extent, disturbed her, and she was more than usually unapproachable in consequence.