And Robert saw a certain light in her eyes which reminded him of how she looked when, having repented of her momentary hardness towards him, she was ministering to his wounded head. CHAPTER XVII. HOME AGAIN. When Robert opened the door of his grandmother's parlour, he found the old lady seated at breakfast. She rose, pushed back her chair, and met him in the middle of the room; put her old arms round him, offered her smooth white cheek to him, and wept. Robert wondered that she did not look older; for the time he had been away seemed an age, although in truth only eight months. 'Hoo are ye, laddie?' she said. 'I'm richt glaid, for I hae been thinkin' lang to see ye. Sit ye doon.' Betty rushed in, drying her hands on her apron. She had not heard him enter. 'Eh losh!' she cried, and put her wet apron to her eyes. 'Sic a man as ye're grown, Robert! A puir body like me maunna be speykin to ye noo.' 'There's nae odds in me, Betty,' returned Robert. ''Deed but there is. Ye're sax feet an' a hairy ower, I s' warran'.' 'I said there was nae odds i' me, Betty,' persisted Robert, laughing. 'I kenna what may be in ye,' retorted Betty; 'but there's an unco' odds upo' ye.' 'Haud yer tongue, Betty,' said her mistress. 'Ye oucht to ken better nor stan' jawin' wi' young men. Fess mair o' the creamy cakes.' 'Maybe Robert wad like a drappy o' parritch.' 'Onything, Betty,' said Robert. 'I'm at deith's door wi' hunger.' 'Rin, Betty, for the cakes. An' fess a loaf o' white breid; we canna bide for the parritch.' Robert fell to his breakfast, and while he ate--somewhat ravenously--he told his grandmother the adventures of the night, and introduced the question whether he might not ask Ericson to stay a few days with him. 'Ony frien' o' yours, laddie,' she replied, qualifying her words only with the addition--'gin he be a frien'.--Whaur is he noo?' 'He's up at Miss Naper's.' 'Hoots! What for didna ye fess him in wi' ye?--Betty!' 'Na, na, grannie. The Napers are frien's o' his. We maunna interfere wi' them. I'll gang up mysel' ance I hae had my brakfast.' 'Weel, weel, laddie. Eh! I'm blythe to see ye! Hae ye gotten ony prizes noo?' 'Ay have I. I'm sorry they're nae baith o' them the first. But I hae the first o' ane an' the third o' the ither.' 'I am pleased at that, Robert. Ye'll be a man some day gin ye haud frae drink an' frae--frae leein'.' 'I never tellt a lee i' my life, grannie.' 'Na. I dinna think 'at ever ye did.--An' what's that crater Shargar aboot?' 'Ow, jist gaein' to be a croon o' glory to ye, grannie. He vroucht like a horse till Dr. Anderson took him by the han', an' sent him to the schuil. An' he's gaein' to mak something o' 'im, or a' be dune. He's a fine crater, Shargar.' 'He tuik a munelicht flittin' frae here,' rejoined the old lady, in a tone of offence. 'He micht hae said gude day to me, I think.' 'Ye see he was feart at ye, grannie.'