The mistress of The Mains, having mounted the gig, was away to the weekly butter market; Alison was invisible, set, in a distant corner of the house, upon some interminable domestic task. Nancy opened her door, peeped out, and listened; the house was quiet. The laird, she knew, was within and at her mercy, for she had heard he had the rheumatics in his back, and could not go forth in the damp. She tripped away down the passage, and by peeping into one room after another, at last found the library, and the laird in it. ’Here’s the den,’ she cried, gaily, ’and the lion within!’ And she looked up into her host’s rugged face with those eyes of hers, which no man in his senses could resist, saving, indeed, a certain legal gentleman, in Edinburgh, of a hard heart. The laird was in a doleful mood, inclined to those modified views of the desirability of life which are fostered in a man by a touch of lumbago. He stood with his back to the green-washed mantelpiece, with its pessimistic motto, and his countenance was dourly set. It, however, melted in a smile at the sight of his guest, as, indeed, that guest intended that it should. ’And now I’m come to have a confidential talk with you,’ said she, ensconcing herself in his big chair, and shaking a finger at him. ’’Tis of your daughter, Alison. Laird, it can never be that a man like you gives his daughter to a man like Jimmy Cheape!’ ’Sells her, you mean,’ said the laird, sourly. He was indeed Alison’s father, from whom she had taken her own direct, literal ways of thought and speech. ’’Tis true, we have sold the lass.’ ’For shame—for shame!’ cried Nancy. ’Your best and bonniest! I’ll not stand by and see it done. Sure as I’m a woman, I forbid the banns, and will prevent it!’ ’You’d need be quick, then,’ said the laird, with a short sarcastic laugh. ’Ally doesn’t know it, for her mother keeps it quiet as yet, but the man comes to-morrow s’en-night, and expects to find all ready for the marriage.’ ’Lord-a-mercy! then we must act promptly, indeed!’ said Nancy. ’I’m not without a practical suggestion in the matter, I assure you. Instead of giving the lassie to old Cheape, like a tit-bit to an ogre, give her to me. Do you hear, laird?’ ’Ay, I hear,’ said the laird, laconically. ’I would if I could, mistress, for my stomach rises at this marriage. But the wife is set on a husband for Ally.’ ’I’ll get her another,’ cried Nancy, eagerly. ’The town’s full of sparks, and to spare!’ ’A bird in hand is worth two in the bush, the wife would tell you,’ said the laird, with a sorry smile. ’Besides, there’s money between old Cheape and me. I cannot back out of the bargain now.’