"It is not quite that--it is not only that," she murmured in a low voice. She had purposely left the letter at home; she wanted him to help her, and yet she did not wish to show him all, or to tell him the rough terms her brother had used. Like many another person she quite forgot that a half-confidence is worse than none. Mr. Macfarlane was more puzzled now than ever. What was really at the bottom of all this; what did she fear? The pale slight woman before him, who had never known peace till now, had evidently some complex mode of reasoning entirely beyond his powers of divination. Poor woman! she saw her tranquil life slipping past her beyond recall, and the problem present to her now was, how she could let Mr. Macfarlane know, she was not quite at her brother's mercy, that she held something in reserve, without allowing him to guess what that something was? The impossibility of doing this was by turns before her with its desirability, then she joined her secret thought to his outspoken words, and said in a firm voice, "I will refuse to sell." Mr. Macfarlane was immensely surprised, but, imagining that she was simply following the advice he had given her, he was also flattered. Asking advice generally meant making up your mind beforehand and going to hear the reason for and against having done so, when it was too late to alter anything. "I am sure you are right," he said, warming towards her, "and anything I can do----" "You can receive the rent and forward it to me," she said, "when the place is let. I must have time," she said, with a little tremble in her voice, "to arrange and put away my things." Mr. Macfarlane was amused by her simple belief in the production of a desirable tenant at a moment's notice. He laughed a little. "It will take a little time, Mrs. Dorriman, to get just the person you want; some weeks at any rate. A step like this cannot be taken in a hurry--you yourself will require time." "Yes, if I can get it," she rejoined, speaking her thought aloud. "Come and have some luncheon with my wife," he said kindly; "she will make you welcome, I know." Mrs. Dorriman accepted the proffered kindness, and followed him into the comfortable room where Mrs. Macfarlane was found with five children; who were introduced and dismissed in a breath. Mrs. Macfarlane was one of those pleasant cheerful kindly women who see the sunny side of life most. She had been a petted daughter, was an idolized wife, and an adored mother. Her husband carried all his perplexities and all his troubles to her, and by so doing lightened them. She had a keen, shrewd way of looking at things, and was so wrapt up in her husband and children that she had no time for outside friendships. Her chief fault (as imperfection in some shape is but human) was her intolerance of imaginary woes, and want of reality in any and every shape.