“They're here,” cried Cæsar. “You've chastised him, then! You'd bait his head off, I'll go bail. And I believe enough you'll be forgiven, sir. Yonder blow was almost bitterer than flesh can bear. Before my days of grace--but, praise the Lord for His restraining hand, the very minute my anger was up He crippled me in the hip with rheumatics. But what's this?” holding the lantern over his head; “there's blood on your face, sir?” “A scratch--it's nothing,” said Philip. “It's the women that's in every mischief,” said Cæsar. “Lord bless me, aren't the women as good as the men?” said Nancy. “H'm,” said Cæsar. “We're told that man was made a little lower than the angels, but about women we're just left to our own conclusions.” “Scripture has nothing to do with Ross Christian, father,” said Grannie. “The Lord forbid it,” said Cæsar. “What can you get from a cat but his skin? And doesn't the man come from Christian Ballawhaine!” “If it comes to that, though, haven't we all come from Adam?” said Grannie. “Yes; and from Eve too, more's the pity,” said Cæsar. VI. For some time thereafter Philip went no more to Sulby. He had a sufficient excuse. His profession made demand of all his energies. When he was not at work in Douglas he was expected to be at home with his aunt at Ballure. But neither absence nor the lapse of years served to lift him out of the reach of temptation. He had one besetting provocation to remembrance--one duty which forbade him to forget Kate--his pledge to Pete, his office as _Dooiney Molla_. Had he not vowed to keep guard over the girl? He must do it. The trust was a sacred one. Philip found a way out of his difficulty. The post was an impersonal and incorruptible go-between, so he wrote frequently. Sometimes he had news to send, for, to avoid the espionage of Cæsar, intelligence of Pete came through him; occasionally he had love-letters to enclose; now and then he had presents to pass on. When such necessity did not arise, he found it agreeable to keep up the current of correspondence. At Christmas he sent Christmas cards, on Midsummer Day a bunch of moss roses, and even on St. Valentine's Day a valentine. All this was in discharge of his duty, and everything he did was done in the name of Pete. He persuaded himself that he sank his own self absolutely. Having denied his eyes the very sight of the girl's face, he stood erect in the belief that he was a true and loyal friend. Kate was less afraid and less ashamed. She took the presents from Pete and wore them for Philip. In her secret heart she thought no shame of this. The years gave her a larger flow of life, and made out of the bewitching girl a splendid woman, brought up to the full estate of maidenly beauty.