‘My time o’ life?’ interrupted the old man tartly. ‘Surely I’m no sae auld that ye need to be speaking o’ my time o’ life? But what’s your will, Mr. Keelevin, wi’ me?’ Whether all this sympathetic condolence, on the part of the lawyer, was said in sincerity, or with any ulterior view, we need not pause to discuss, for the abrupt question of the invalid brought it at once to a conclusion. ‘In truth, Laird,’ replied Mr. Keelevin, ‘I canna say that I hae ony thing o’ a particular speciality to trouble you anent, for I came hither more in the way o’ friendship than o’ business,--having had this morning a visit frae your son Charles, a fine weel-doing young man as can be.’ ‘He’s weel enough,’ said the old man gruffly, and the lawyer continued,-- ‘’Deed, Mr. Walkinshaw, he’s mair than weel enough. He’s by common, and it was with great concern I heard that you and him are no on sic a footing of cordiality as I had thought ye were.’ ‘Has he been making a complaint o’ me?’ said Claud looking sharply, and with a grim and knotted brow as if he was, at the same time, apprehensive and indignant. ‘He has mair sense and discretion,’ replied Mr. Keelevin; ‘but he was speaking to me on a piece of business, and I was surprised he did na rather confer wi’ you; till, in course of conversation, it fell out, as it were unawares, that he did na like to speak to you anent it; the which dislike, I jealouse, could only proceed o’ some lack o’ confidence between you, mair than should ever be between a father and a well-behaved son like Mr. Charles.’ ‘And what was’t?’ said Grippy drily. ‘I doubt that his income is scant to his want, Mr. Walkinshaw.’ ‘He’s an extravagant fool; and ne’er had a hand to thraw a key in a lock;--when I began the world I had na’---- ‘Surely,’ interrupted Mr. Keelevin, ‘ye could ne’er think the son o’ a man in your circumstances should hain and hamper as ye were necessitated to do in your younger years. But no to mak a hearing or an argument concerning the same--Mr. Charles requires a sma’ sum to get him free o’ a wee bit difficulty, for, ye ken, there are some folk, Mr. Walkinshaw, that a flea-bite molests like the lash o’ a whip.’ The old man made no answer to this; but sat for some time silent, drawing down his brows and twirling his thumbs. Mr. Keelevin waited in patience till he should digest the reply he so evidently meditated. ‘I hae ay thought Charlie honest, at least,’ said Grippy; ‘but I maun say that this fashes me, for if he’s in sic straits, there’s no telling what liberties he may be led to tak wi’ my property in the shop.’ Mr. Keelevin, who, in the first part of this reply, had bent eagerly forward, was so thunderstruck by the conclusion, that he threw himself back in his chair with his arms extended; but in a moment recovering from his consternation, he said, with fervour,--