“Well,” he said, after a pause, with a little sigh, “to return to Susie. She’s not equal to her present charge, not equal to it at all. Three big boys on her hands, and the two little ones, not to count all the family correspondence with the others in India and Australia, and all that. There is a great deal of care connected with a large family that people never think of.” He paused for sympathy, but it was not a point upon which his present listener could speak: he went on with a slight and momentary feeling that she was selfish not to have entered into this trouble, notwithstanding that it was so different from her own. “And these growing laddies want a firm hand over them--they want authority--not just a sister that they can tease and fleech---- I maybe ought from the first,” he said, slowly and tentatively, “to have taken the burden more upon myself.” “It would have left less burden upon Susie; but I think for my part she is quite equal to it,” Mrs Ogilvy said. When a man condescends to blame himself, he expects as his natural due that he should be reassured. Mr Logan felt that his old friend and parishioner, to whom he had come half for sympathy, half for encouragement, was not nearly so sympathetic a person as he thought. “I see we’ll not agree in that; and I am sure I hope you’re the one that is in the right. Well,” he said, getting up slowly, “I’m afraid I must be going. This is a long walk for me at this hour of the night; and they’ll be waiting for me at home.” “You’ll let me know,” Mrs Ogilvy said, as she walked with him along the little platform round the plot of grass. “You’ll let me know--when things have gone further.” “When things have gone further?” he cried, with a sudden redness and look of surprise: then added, shaking his head, “What things there are to go further, and how far they can go, is a mystery to me. You must be referring to something in your own mind.” And the good-night was a little formal with which he went away. It was time to go in. The light was fading at last, growing a little paler, and ten had struck on the big clock. The lamp had been lighted in the drawing-room for Mrs Ogilvy to read the chapter by, though there was no real need for it. Janet, who had come out for her mistress’s work and her footstool, lingered, as was her wont, before she “cried upon” Andrew for that concluding ceremonial of the day. “Did you ever hear that there was any word of the minister----? But perhaps I should not speak on the small authority I have,” Mrs Ogilvy said. “Speak freely, mem; I can aye bear it--and better from you than from some other folk.”