I suspect myself that the old lady thought he had gone to his prayers in the garret. And I believe she thought that he was praying for his dead father; with which most papistical, and, therefore, most unchristian observance, she yet dared not interfere, because she expected Robert to defend himself triumphantly with the simple assertion that he did not believe his father was dead. Possibly the mother was not sorry that her poor son should be prayed for, in case he might be alive after all, though she could no longer do so herself--not merely dared not, but persuaded herself that she would not. Robert, however, was convinced enough, and hopeless enough, by this time, and had even less temptation to break the twentieth commandment by praying for the dead, than his grandmother had; for with all his imaginative outgoings after his father, his love to him was as yet, compared to that father's mother's, 'as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.' Shargar would glance up at him with a queer look as he came in from these excursions, drop his head over his task again, look busy and miserable, and all would glide on as before. When the first really summer weather came, Mr. Lammie one day paid Mrs. Falconer a second visit. He had not been able to get over the remembrance of the desolation in which he had left her. But he could do nothing for her, he thought, till it was warm weather. He was accompanied by his daughter, a woman approaching the further verge of youth, bulky and florid, and as full of tenderness as her large frame could hold. After much, and, for a long time, apparently useless persuasion, they at last believed they had prevailed upon her to pay them a visit for a fortnight. But she had only retreated within another of her defences. 'I canna leave thae twa laddies alane. They wad be up to a' mischeef.' 'There's Betty to luik efter them,' suggested Miss Lammie. 'Betty!' returned Mrs. Falconer, with scorn. 'Betty's naething but a bairn hersel'--muckler and waur faured (worse favoured).' 'But what for shouldna ye fess the lads wi' ye?' suggested Mr. Lammie. 'I hae no richt to burden you wi' them.' 'Weel, I hae aften wonnert what gart ye burden yersel' wi' that Shargar, as I understan' they ca' him,' said Mr. Lammie. 'Jist naething but a bit o' greed,' returned the old lady, with the nearest approach to a smile that had shown itself upon her face since Mr. Lammie's last visit. 'I dinna understan' that, Mistress Faukner,' said Miss Lammie. 'I'm sae sure o' haein' 't back again, ye ken,--wi' interest,' returned Mrs. Falconer. 'Hoo's that? His father winna con ye ony thanks for haudin' him in life.' 'He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord, ye ken, Miss Lammie.' 'Atweel, gin ye like to lippen to that bank, nae doobt ae way or anither it'll gang to yer accoont,' said Miss Lammie.