“Eh, laddie,” cried Mrs. Buchanan, “you terrify me with your boxing and your fighting. What ails you at him, and who is the enemy now? And you’ve broken up my gathering coal that would have lasted the whole night through.” “It’s me he is fechting, mother,” said Elsie, “and he says if I had not been a lassie, he would have knocked me down.” “You’re never at peace, you two,” said the mother, with much composure; “and we all know that Rodie had aye a great contempt for lassies. Let us just see, Elsie, if some day or other he may not meet a lassie that will give him a good setting down.” “What do I care about lassies,” cried Rodie, indignant; “you’re thinking of Frank Mowbray and Raaf Beaton. If ever two fellows made fools of themselves! looking as glum as the day of judgment, if Elsie turns her head the other way.” “Hold your tongue, laddie,” cried Mrs. Buchanan, but with a smothered laugh. She was “weel pleased to see her bairn respected like the lave,” but she was a sensible mother, and would have no such nonsense made a talk of. “Your father is not coming down-stairs again,” she said; “he is busy with his sermon, so you can go to your bed when you like, Rodie. Bless me, the laddie has made the room insupportable with that great fire, and dangerous, too, to leave it burning. Elsie, my dear, I wish you were always as diligent; but you must fold up your seam now for the night.” After a little while Rodie retired to find the supper which had been waiting for him in the dining-room; for his evening hours were a little irregular, and his appetite large. “He says Frank Mowbray is very much taken up about people that owe him debts,” said Elsie, to her mother; “and that he is coming to consult my father.” “Oh, these weariful debts,” said Mrs. Buchanan; “I have always said how much better it would have been to clear them off, and be done with them. It would have been all paid back before this time, and our minds at rest. But Mr. Morrison, he would not hear of it, and your father has never got it off his mind to this very day.” “Will it disturb him, mother, very much if Frank comes to talk to him?” said Elsie. “I cannot tell why it should disturb him. The laddie has nothing to do with it, and Mr. Morrison had the old man’s orders. But it will for all that. I think I will speak to Frank myself,” Mrs. Buchanan said. “Oh, no, mother,” said Elsie. “And wherefore, oh, no, mother? Many a man have I seen, and many a thing have I done to save your father. But it would be giving too much importance to this laddie. It will be his mother that sets him on. Put away your seam, Elsie, it is time that you were in your bed.” “I could not sleep a wink,” said Elsie, “if I thought papa was to be troubled about this old thing.” “You had better think nothing about it,” her mother replied; “for, whatever happens, you can do nothing: and what is the use of making yourself unhappy about a thing you cannot mend?”