"Whoever pleased you, Gavin, would content me," Margaret ventured to maintain. "You would only take to a clever woman." "She must be nearly as clever as you, mother." "Hoots, Gavin," said Margaret, smiling, "I'm not to be caught with chaff. I am a stupid, ignorant woman." "Then I must look out for a stupid, ignorant woman, for that seems to be the kind I like," answered Gavin, of whom I may confess here something that has to be told sooner or later. It is this: he never realised that Babbie was a great deal cleverer than himself. Forgive him, you who read, if you have any tolerance for the creature, man. "She will be terribly learned in languages," pursued Margaret, "so that she may follow you in your studies, as I have never been able to do." "Your face has helped me more than Hebrew, mother," replied Gavin. "I will give her no marks for languages." "At any rate," Margaret insisted, "she must be a grand housekeeper, and very thrifty." "As for that," Gavin said, faltering a little, "one can't expect it of a mere girl." "I should expect it," maintained his mother. "No, no; but she would have you," said Gavin, happily, "to teach her housekeeping." "It would be a pleasant occupation to me, that," Margaret admitted. "And she would soon learn; she would be so proud of her position as mistress of a manse." "Perhaps," Gavin said, doubtfully. He had no doubt on the subject in his college days. "And we can take for granted," continued his mother, "that she is a lassie of fine character." "Of course," said Gavin, holding his head high, as if he thought the doctor might be watching him. "I have thought," Margaret went on, "that there was a great deal of wisdom in what you said at that last marriage in the manse, the one where, you remember, the best man and the bridesmaid joined hands instead of the bride and bridegroom." "What did I say?" asked the little minister, with misgivings. "That there was great danger when people married out of their own rank of life." "Oh--ah--well, of course, that would depend on circumstances." "They were wise words, Gavin. There was the sermon, too, that you preached a month or two ago against marrying into other denominations. Jean told me that it greatly impressed the congregation. It is a sad sight, as you said, to see an Auld Licht lassie changing her faith because her man belongs to the U. P.'s." "Did I say that?" "You did, and it so struck Jean that she told me she would rather be an old maid for life, 'the which,' she said, 'is a dismal prospect,' than marry out of the Auld Licht kirk." "It is harmless," Gavin answered, going to the window. He started back next moment, and crying, "Don't look out, mother," hastily pulled down the blind. "Why, Gavin," Margaret said in fear, "you look as if it had struck you." "Oh, no," Gavin answered, with a forced laugh, and he lit her lamp for her.