His gaze then rested upon his wife, but only for an instant; considering it her only worth that she saved him the expense of a servant in the house, he quickly looked away from her with an involuntary, distasteful curl of his lips, and turned his mind to pleasanter things.

Yes, there was Matthew, his son! Not a bad lad; a bit sly and soft and sleek perhaps; wanted watching; and spoiled utterly by his mother. But going to India would, he hoped, make a man of him. It was getting near the time now and in only two or three weeks he would be off to that fine job Sir John Latta had got for him. Ah! Folks would talk about that! His features relaxed, as he considered how every one would recognise in this appointment a special mark of Sir John's

favour to him, and a further tribute to his prominence in the town, how, through it, his son's character would benefit and his own importance increase.

His eye then fell upon his mother, less harshly, and with a more indulgent regard than that he had directed towards her at table. She was fond of her food, and even as she sat nodding over the fire he read her mind shrewdly, knew that she was already anticipating, thinking of her next meal, her supper of pease brose and buttermilk. She loved it, repeated like a wise saw, "There's naethin' like brose to sleep on! It's like a poultice to the stomach." Ay! Her god was her belly, but losh! she was a tough old witch. The older she got, the tougher she grew; she must have good stuff in her to make her last like that, and even now she looked, to his mind, good for another ten years. If he wore as well as that, and he might wear better, he would be satisfied.

Finally he looked at Nessie and immediately his bearing became tinged, almost imperceptibly, with a faint indication of feeling, not manifest by any marked change of feature, but by his eye, which became flecked with a softer and more considerate light.