“My mother has not made up her mind yet,” said Menie. “It was yesterday the letter came, and I left her still as undecided as ever--for she is only half inclined to go, Mr Home; and as for Jenny”---- “It will be worth while to hear what Jenny says of London,” said John Home with a smile; “but the countryside will gather a cloud when we think May’s gone from Burnside. Well, July, speak out, woman; what is’t you’re whispering now?” “I was saying that Randall would be glad,” said July softly. July had a fashion of whispering her share of the conversation to her next neighbour, to be repeated for the general benefit. “Eh, puir laddie!” exclaimed Miss Janet, with glistening eye. “I could find it in my heart to be glad too, Miss Menie, though we are to lose you, for his sake. I think I see the glint in his eye when he hears the good news.” And Miss Janet’s own eyes shone with loving, unselfish sympathy, as she repeated, “Randy, puir callant! and no a creature heeding about him, mair than he was a common young man, in a’ yon muckle toun!” “We’ll let Randall say his pleasure himsel,” said his father, who was more delicately careful of embarrassing Menie than either sister or daughter--perhaps more, indeed, than the occasion required. “For my part, I’m no glad, and never would pretend to be; and if Mrs Laurie makes up her mind to stay”---- “What then?” said Menie, looking up quickly, with a flush of displeasure. “I’ll say she’s a very sensible woman,” said the farmer. “Ay, May, my lassie, truly will I, for a’ that bonnie gloom of yours--or whatever my son Randall may have to say.” CHAPTER IV.