“Bless us,” said the man of business, “you are awfully particular to-day, Buchanan. I am not saying a word against her character: but lightheaded, that is thoughtless and reckless, and fond of her pleasure, the woman undoubtedly is: nothing but a parcel of vanities, and ostentations, and show. Well, well! how it comes about is one thing, how to mend it is another. We cannot let the poor creature be overwhelmed if we can help it. She spent all her own money first, which, though the height of folly, was still a sign of grace. And now she has been spending Frank’s, and, according to all that appears, his English money is very nearly gone, and there is nothing but the Scotch remaining.” “And the Scotch but little to lippen to, as you say, and everybody says.” “That’s as it may be,” said Morrison, with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s better than the English, anyway. She deserves to be punished for her folly, but I have not the heart to leave her in the lurch. She’s sorry enough now, though whether that is because she’s feared for exposure or really penitent, I would not like to say. Anyway, when a woman trusts in you to pull her out of the ditch, it’s hard just to steel your heart and refuse: though maybe, in a moral point of view, the last would be well justified and really the right thing to do. But I thought you and I might lay our heads together and see which was best.” “There is that money of mine, Morrison.” “Hoots!” said the man of business, “what nonsense is that ye have got in your head? There is no money of yours.” “Forgive me, but you must not put me down so,” said the minister. “I have done wrong in not insisting before. The arrangement was that it should be repaid, and I ought not to have allowed myself to be persuaded out of it, I owed Mr. Anderson----” “Not a penny, not a penny. All cancelled by his special instructions at his death.” “Morrison, this has been upon my mind for years. I must be quit of it now.” He raised his voice with a shrill weakness in it. “My wife knows. Where is my wife? I wish my wife to be present when we settle this account finally. Open the door and call her. I must have Mary here.” “Well, she is a very sensible woman,” said Mr. Morrison, shrugging his shoulders. He disapproved on principle, he said always, of the introduction of women to matters they had nothing to do with, which was the conviction of his period. But he reflected that Buchanan in his present state was little better than a woman, and that the presence of his wife might be a correction. He opened the door accordingly, and she came out of her room in a moment, ready evidently for any call. “Mary, I wish you to be here while I tell Morrison, once for all, that I must pay this money. I perhaps gave you a false idea when we talked of it before. I made you believe it was a smaller sum than it was. I--I was like the unjust steward--I took my bill and wrote fourscore.”