“I saw the notes in his hand. He’s aye very nice to me,” said Janet, not without a little pleasure in showing how much more at his ease Robert was with her than with his mother, “and cracks about everything. He just showed me in his hand--as many notes as would build a kirk. He said: ‘See how liberal----’” Janet stopped here, a little confused; for what Robert had said was, “See how liberal the old woman is.” She liked to give her mistress the tiniest pin-prick, perhaps, but not the stab of a disrespect like that. “I wish to be liberal,” said Mrs Ogilvy. “I am very glad he was pleased: and I knew he was going,--there was nothing out of the way about it that you should meet me with such a long face. I thought nothing less than that he must be ill after all his fatigues and his travels.” “Oh, no a bit of him,” said Janet--“no ill: I never had ony fears about that.” Mrs Ogilvy by this time had quite recovered herself. “He will have a good many things to do,” she said. “He will never be able to get back to his dinner. I hope he’ll get something comfortable to eat in Edinburgh. You can keep back the roast of beef till the evening, Janet, and just give me some little thing: an egg will do and a cup of tea----” “You will just get your dinner as usual,” said Janet, doggedly, “as you did before, when you were in your natural way.” When she was in her natural way! It was a cruel speech, but Mrs Ogilvy took no notice. She did not fight the question out, as Janet hoped. If she shed a few tears as she took off her things in her bedroom, they were soon wiped away and left no traces. Robbie could not be tied to her apron-strings. She knew that well, if Janet did not know it. And what could be more natural than that he should like to buy his clothes and get what he wanted by himself, not with an old wife for ever at his heels? She strengthened herself for a quiet day, and then the pleasure of seeing him come back.