’But Scripture saith, an ending to all fine things must be;’ and the ending, in this case, was the work of the widow Menzies. Kate felt herself at once aggrieved and perplexed by Ronald’s continued absence; but she was even more astonished when, on sending to make inquiries, she found he had left his lodgings and gone elsewhere, leaving no address. She saw a purpose in this; she leapt to the conclusion that a woman had something to do with it; and in her jealous anger and mortification she determined on leaving no stone unturned to discover his whereabouts. But her two cronies, Laidlaw and old Jaap (the skipper was away at sea again), seemed quite powerless to aid her. They knew that Ronald occasionally used to go over to Pollokshaws; but further than that, nothing. He never came to the Harmony Club now; and not one of his former companions knew anything about him. Old Mr. Jaap hoped that no harm had come to the lad, whom he liked; but Jimmy Laidlaw was none so sorry over this disappearance: he might himself have a better chance with the widow, now that Kate’s handsome cousin was out of the way. It was Kate herself who made the discovery, ami that in the simplest manner possible. She and mother Paterson had been away somewhere outside the town for a drive: and they were returning by the Great Western Road, one evening towards dusk, when all at once the widow caught sight of Ronald, at some distance off, and just as he was in the act of saying good-bye to a woman—to a young girl apparently. Kate pulled up the cob so suddenly that she nearly pitched her companion headlong into the street. ’What is it, Katie dear?’ She did not answer; she let the cob move forward a yard or two, so as to get the dog-cart close in by the pavement; and then she waited—watching with an eager scrutiny this figure that was now coming along. Meenie did not notice her; probably the girl was too busy with her own thoughts; but these could not have been sad ones, for the bright young face, with its tender colour rather heightened by the sharpness of the evening air, seemed happy enough. ’Flying high, he is,’ was Kate Menzies’s inward comment as she marked the smart costume and the well-bred air and carriage of this young lady. And then, the moment she had passed, Kate said quickly— ’Here, auntie, take the reins, and wait here. Never mind how long. He’ll no stir; if you’re feared, bid a laddie stand by his head.’ ’But what is’t, Katie dear?’