His face flushed slightly as he concluded, and he began to drum with his fingers in mere shyness and embarrassment upon Miss Annie Laurie’s work-table. Randall, a little distance from him, was turning over with infinite scorn Miss Annie’s picture-books. The two young men had grown familiar in the house, though it was not yet a month since they entered it first. “And I think you are very right,” said Mrs Laurie cordially, “though whether Mrs Lithgow might be pleased with a town-life, or whether--” She paused: it was not very easy to say “whether your mother would be a suitable housekeeper for you.” Mrs Laurie could not do violence either to her own feelings or his by suggesting such a doubt. “I think it would be a great risk,” said Randall, “and, if you consulted me, would certainly warn you against it. Your mother knows nothing of London--she would not like it; besides, a young man seeking his fortune should be alone.” “Cold doctrine,” said Lithgow, smiling, “and to come from _you_.” His eye fell unconsciously upon Menie; then as he met a quick upward glance from her, he stammered, blushed, and stopped short--for Johnnie Lithgow was as shy and sensitive as a girl, and had all the reverence of youthful genius for womanhood and love. With compunction, and an idea that he had been jesting profanely, Lithgow hurriedly began again. “I am so vain as to think _I_ myself would be London to my mother--old ground long known and well explored. If she would not like the change, of course--but I fancy she might.” “I advise you against it, Lithgow,” said Randall “in your case I should never entertain such an idea. There is my father--no one can have a greater respect for him than I--but to bring him to live with me--to bring him to London--I should think it the merest folly, injurious to us both.” “Your wisdom is very safe at least,” said Mrs Laurie, with a little asperity, “since there is no chance of your good father leaving his own respectable house for an unknown and strange place in any case; but I think your wish a very natural one, and very creditable to you, Mr Lithgow; and whether she comes or not, the knowledge that you wish for her will be joy to your mother’s heart.” With his usual half-disdainful smile Randall had turned away, and there was a slight flush of anger upon Mrs Laurie’s face. Indignation and scorn,--there was not much hope of friendliness where such unpromising elements had flashed into sudden existence. Menie looking on with terror, and perceiving a new obstacle thrown into her way, hastily endeavoured to make a diversion. “Do you know, Mr Lithgow, that July Home is coming up to London to see me?” There came a sudden brightening to all the kindly lines of the young man’s face. “July Home! if I am too familiar, forgive me, Randall--but I have so many boyish recollections of her. She was such a sweet little timid simple womanly child too. I wonder if July minds me as I mind her.”