Something ailed her that July did not know;--a trembling thrill of apprehensive joy, an intense realisation for the moment of all her terrors and sorrows, suddenly inspired, and flooded over with the light of a new hope. The colour fled from Mrs Lithgow’s very lips; the little broken hammer fell with a heavy clang upon the floor at her feet. Her eyes turned wistfully, eagerly, upon Menie; the light swam in them, and yet they could read so clearly the expression of this face. And Menie, conquering her blush and hesitation, took out her letter, and read bravely so much of it as was suitable for the mother’s ear. The mother forgot all about the mysterious box, even though it seemed so likely now to come from Johnnie. She sat down abruptly on the wooden chair behind the counter; she lifted up her checked apron, and pressed it with both hands into the corners of her eyes. “My puir laddie! my puir laddie!”--You could almost have fancied it was some misfortune to Johnnie which caused this swelling of his mother’s heart. “And he’s in among grand folk, and turning a muckle man himsel,” said Mrs Lithgow softly, after a considerable pause. “Was that what the letter said?--was that what the folk telled me?--and he’s my son for a’ that--Johnnie Lithgow, my ain little young bairn.” “I think, mother, ye may just as weel let me open the box,” said Nelly, coming forward with her noiseless step. “We’ll ken by what’s in’t if he’s keeping thought of us; though I’m sure it’s no muckle like as if he was, keeping folk anxious sae lang, and him prospering. I’ll just open the box. I wouldna be ane to hang at his tails if Johnnie thought shame of his poor friends; but still a considerate lad would mind that there’s mony a little thing might be useful at Kirklands. I’ll open the box and see.” The mother rose to thrust her away angrily. “Is it what he sends _I’m_ heeding about, think ye?” she exclaimed, with momentary passion, “I’m his mother! I’m seeking naething but his ain welfare and well-doing. Was’t gifts I wanted, or profit by my son? But ane needna speak to you.” “Eh! but there’s maybe a letter,” said July Home, with a little natural artifice. “Mrs Lithgow, I would open it and see.” And Mrs Lithgow, with this hope, cut the cords vigorously, though with a trembling hand--rejecting, not without anger, the offered assistance of Nelly, who now crossed her hands demurely on her apron, and stood, virtuous and resigned, looking on. Little July, very eager and curious, could not restrain her restless fingers, but helped to loose the knots involuntarily with a zealous aid, which the widow did not refuse; and Menie, not quite sure that it was right to intrude upon the mother’s joy, but very certain that she would greatly like to see what Johnnie Lithgow sent home, lingered, with shyer and less visible curiosity, between the counter and the door.