To-night I made up my mind to speak to Frank Thomson and his wife. I knew that Jim would be miserable as long as he carried so weighty a secret on him; I knew that he was itching to rush through the village shouting: "The Mester\'s gaein\' to be married to Maggie Tamson ... and Aw\'m to be his best man!"

I went over about eight o\'clock. The children were in bed, and Margaret sat in the kitchen with her father and mother.

"I want to marry Margaret," I said when I entered.

Frank was reading The People\'s Journal. The paper fluttered slightly, and that was the only sign of surprise that came from him.

"Yea, Mester?" he said slowly. "Man, d\'ye tell me that na? Aw see that the Roosians are makin\' some progress again." He buried his head in his paper after throwing a look to his wife. The look clearly meant: "This is a matter for you to tak up, Lizzie."

Mrs. Thomson laid down her knitting carefully; then she rubbed her glasses with her apron. She glanced at Margaret, and Margaret rose and left the room quietly. I knew that she left the door half-closed so that she might hear from the stair-foot.

Her mother looked at me over her glasses.

[Pg 144]

"She\'s gey young," she said.

"A year older than you were when you married," I said with a smile.

She sat in deep thought for a long time. Then she turned to her husband.

"Frank," she said in a matter-of-fact voice, "ye\'ll better bring oot the whiskey."

That was all. Neither of them asked a question about my financial position, or my hopes. Mrs. Thomson went to the door and called Margaret\'s name, and when she entered the kitchen her mother simply said: "Maggie, ye micht bring a few coals like a lassie."

A stranger from a foreign land looking on would have wondered at the unconcern of the whole thing. The family talked about everything but the subject of the moment, but I knew by the way in which they made conversation that they were striving to hide their real feelings.

When I rose to leave I turned to Frank.

"I don\'t know what plans I have," I said, "but the chances are that I\'ll go to live in London some day soon."

Frank waved a protesting hand.

"Never mind that ee\'noo," he cried. "Maggie!... ye\'ll better see the Mester to the door, lassie!"

"They\'re awfu\' pleased!" whispered Margaret at the door.

"Are they, Margaret?" I said tenderly.

"Yes! But it isn\'t because you are so clever, you know!"

[Pg 145]

"Rather because I am so handsome?"

"No. They\'re pleased because you are an M.A."

Then she laughed at my look of chagrin.

*         *         *

This morning I met Jim.

"Jim," I said, "you are free to speak now."

He made no reply; he sprang over a gate and flew towards the village.

The girls came up in a body at four o\'clock.

"Is\'t true?" cried Janet as she ran up breathlessly.

"What? Is what true?"

"That you and Maggie are to be married?"

"The answer is in the affirmative," I said pompously.

Janet\'s face fell.

"Eh, if Aw had that Jim Jackson! He telt us that he was to be yer best man!"

"He was aye a big leer!" cried Ellen, then she saw that I was smiling.

"It\'s true after a\'!" she cried.

"Yes," I said, "it\'s true, bairns," but to my surprise they rushed off and left me. I understood their action when I turned to look; they had seen Margaret emerge from the kitchen door. Poor Margaret! The whole crowd of them insisted on pinching her arms for luck. They seemed to have forgotten my existence; then suddenly they all came running towards me.

"Let me tell \'im, Jan!" I heard Annie cry,[Pg 146] but Jan tore herself from restraining arms and was first to come up.

"The Mester\'s gotten a little baby!" cried Janet.

"Janet\'s wrang!" cried Annie; "it\'s no the Mester: it\'s his wife!"

I tried to look my surprise.

"And did you congratulate him, Jan?" I asked.

Janet tittered.

"He took an awfu\' reid face when he cam in this mornin\', did\'n he, Jean?"

"Aye, and he was grumpy a\' day. He was ay frownin\' at a\' body. We cudna help his wife haein\' a bairn!"

"He looked as if he was angry at his wife haein\' the bairn," said Barbara.

I recalled my conjecture that he would try to give the bairns the impression that he had nothing whatever to do with the affair, and I laughed uproariously.

I suddenly realised that Gladys was asking me a question.

"Eh? What\'s that, Gladys?"

"I was speerin\' if you and Maggie are to hae a bairn?"

Janet gasped and cried: "Oh, Gladys!" and Jean cried: "Look at Maggie blushin\'!"

"Certainly!" I said with a laugh, "a dozen of them, won\'t we, Margaret?"

"Bairns is just a scunner," said Sarah. "Ye\'ll hae to stop yer typewriter or ye\'ll waken them."

[Pg 147]

"That\'s awkward, Sarah," I said, "for if I stop my typewriter I\'ll starve them."

"The Mester\'ll hae a big hoose," said Jean, "and he\'ll type his letters in the parlour and Maggie\'ll rock the cradle in the kitchen, winna ye, Maggie?"

"Perhaps," I suggested, "Jim Jackson will be able to invent a patent that will enable me to rock the cradle as I strike the keys."

"Aye," said Janet with scorn, "and kill the bairn! Aw wudna trust Jim Jackson wi\' ony bairn o\' mine ... him and his inventions!"

"Ye\'ll mak a nice father," said Gladys, and she put her arm round my neck.

"Ye\'ll spoil yer bairns," said Ellen. She turned to Margaret. "Maggie, dinna let him tak chairge o\' them, or he\'ll mak them catch minnows a\' day instead o\' learnin\' their lessons."

"G\'wa, Ellen," cried Sarah, "they\'re no married yet! And ye dinna get bairns till ye\'re married a gey lang time."

"Some fowk has them afore they get married," said Barbara thoughtfully, and I chuckled when I saw how the others looked at her. Disapproval was writ large on their faces.

"Ye shudna mention sic things afore Maggie!" said Janet in a stage whisper, and I had to hold my sides. Margaret could not keep her gravity either, and she laughed immoderately.

Later they pleaded with me to tell them when the wedding was to take place. I told[Pg 148] them that I did not know, but that it would be soon, and I promised to invite them all.

"But no Mester Macdonald!" said Jean. "Aw wudna feel so free wi\' him there."

I told them of the widower whose friends tried to persuade him to take his mother-in-law with him in the front funeral coach. After some persuasion he said resignedly: "Verra weel, then; but it\'ll spoil my day." Then I sent them home.

*         *         *

The story I told the girls set me thinking of funeral stories. I have heard dozens of them, but the only other one I can remember is the one about the farmer whose wife was to be buried. As the men carried the coffin along the passage they stumbled, and the coffin came into violent contact with the corner. The lid flew off, and the wife sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had been in a trance.

Twenty years later the wife died again. The men were carrying the coffin through the passage when the farmer rushed forward.

"Canny, lads!" he cried, "canny wi\' that corner!"

*         *         *

"Look here," said Macdonald to me to-night, "the School Board election is coming off soon; why don\'t you stand?"

"I thought that I would be the last man on earth you would want on the School Board," I replied.

[Pg 149]

"N............