hers, which perhaps is a view of the question which will commend itself to many. In return for this she expected to have a great deal of the trouble of life taken off her shoulders. She declared constantly that she knew nothing of business. She preferred to get her money just when she wanted it, instead of having a banking account of her own, as most ladies like to have nowadays, or a settled allowance. In short, Mrs. Dalyell was a woman whose very existence necessitated a husband behind her to do the rough work and see to the supplies. Within these limits there could not be a better mistress of a household. And she was exceedingly annoyed when her husband allowed his breakfast to get cold. It was a trick of his, of which it was her constant effort to mend him; but he was seldom so bad as this day. “Go and tell your father,” she said at last, “that it is almost time for the train. And to let him go without his breakfast is what I will not do. So just tell him, once for all, if he does not come at once he must just give up all thoughts of going in to Edinburgh to-day.” “Here I am--here I am, Amelia,” said Mr. Dalyell, running in and taking his seat at table. “What have you got there, Fred? Kidneys!--and this is bacon.” “All just as cold as chucky-stones,” said the lady of the house solemnly. “You know I don’t mind, my dear. I’ll have a little of that kidney--and a cup of coffee with plenty of milk. How often am I to tell you you should never mind me?” “Just as often as I tell you I will mind you, Robert. Who should be minded if it’s not the master of the house?” He cast upon her a look--which Fred, who had nearly but not quite forgotten the conversation of last night, caught and wondered at with a vague sense of pain, though his mother did not remark it. There was a great deal of affection and tenderness in the glance; but something else that puzzled him. There was trouble in it--but what trouble could there be in his father’s eyes looking at his mother? There was something in it which made him say quite inconsequently, looking up from his plateful of devilled kidney, “You’re not going away anywhere, are you, father?” Then his father’s eyes fixed on himself with a startled glance: “Away?” he said. “Where should I be going? and what’s put that into your head?” Fred replied with the familiar subterfuge of youth: “Oh, nothing!” But his mind was not satisfied; for that was no answer. And there passed through his thoughts a vague idea that if, later in the day, there came a telegram saying that Mr. Dalyell had been obliged to go to London on business, he would not be surprised. “Where indeed!” said Mrs. Dalyell. “It’s not the time for business, which is a comfort: for you can’t be running up to London at a moment’s notice, as you did in the spring. You would find nobody there.”