thought now that he had heard his mother say something about Kirsty's soon going to a servant's place in the south; but his mother was always taking so much interest in these kind of people and things, that he could not be expected to remember all the details.

The other two were strangers, perfect strangers, Robert was sure of that the moment he saw them. They were seated in front of the open fire, spreading out their garments to dry in its genial heat. They both turned and looked at him; but they made no room for him at the fire, any more than they evidently had done for Kirsty Mail; probably it did not occur to them that anybody was travelling but themselves. The one was a big burly gentleman, with a face which would have been fine, but that its once noble outlines were blurred by too much flesh. It was the same with its expression. It was odd how so much goodhumour and kindliness could remain apparent among such palpable traces of peevishness, irritability, and something very like discontent. His long olive-green overcoat was richly furred about the neck and wrists, and there was a magnificent signet ring on the hand he held out over the glowing fire.

The other was quite a young girl; and it was

almost ridiculous to see the features of the father's heavy, rather voluptuous countenance translated into her delicate beauty. But it was not everybody who would have eyes to see that his expression was also translated into hers, and still fewer, that it did not even gain by the transfer. Young vices go under such euphonious names: they are called 'sweet petulance,' and 'airy scorn,' and 'innocent thoughtlessness.' Alas! It is so often only when it is too late, when they have taken firm hold on the life and have ravaged it, and spread poison around it, that they are recognised for what they are!

'I hope that good woman won't be long in giving us something to eat, Etta,' said the gentleman to the young lady. 'I'd like to be into the town before dusk if possible; but I suppose it isn't. There's no knowing what the way may be like.

let us have, eh?'

What did she say she could

'She said something about eggs,' answered the girl indifferently.

'And tea, eh?' added the gentleman with a

disgusted tone.

At that moment Mrs. Yunson

bustled into the apartment to coarse cloth on the rough table. his inquiries to her.

spread a clean

So he directed

'You don't mean to say you can't let me have anything stronger than that,' he said, as she set forth a dim tin tea-kettle.

'It's real good, sir,' she answered. 'Tea's a thing that keeps well, and we can get that good.'

'But I want some brandy-or, at any rate, some beer,' he said.

'This isn't a licensed house, sir,' said Mrs. Yunson. There is not one nearer than Lerwick; there are very good ones there.'

'Well, I don't know how you get on in such a climate without something to comfort you,' observed the visitor. 'But I daresay you know how to take care of yourselves. There are nice little places among the rocks, where nice little boats can leave nice little kegs, eh? And, upon my word, I don't see who could blame you. The Revenue folk oughtn't to be hard

on people living in such a place.'

'Indeed, and that's very true, sir,' responded Mrs. Yunson, going on with her hospitable duties.

'I suppose you really do have a good deal of smuggling here?' inquired the guest, lowering his voice to a more confidential tone.

Mrs. Yunson shook her head. 'Not now, sir,' she answered demurely. 'There's a little

tobacco, maybe, now and again, but not enough to be worth the trouble and risk. It is done more for the fun of the thing than anything else, I do believe. The cloth is quite fresh and clean, miss,' she interpolated, seeing the young lady's eyes fixed with suspicious disfavour on sundry pale stains upon it. Those marks are just off the haystack, on which it was dried. That's the only way we can manage in winter-the ground is that soft and dirty, and the wind's too high for lines.'

6

Miss Etta Brander began to sip her tea. She said nothing about its quality, which was really excellent, but she remarked that she could not touch the bread-she would rather starve-it was so lumpy.

'Well, Etta,' growled her father, 'I should really think you could put up for once without grumbling with what other people have to live upon all their days.'

Etta smiled superciliously; she knew she owed the reproof only to her father's own irritation at having to go without his usual mid-day indulgence of a 'tot' of brandy.

Mrs. Yunson asked if they had done with the teapot, that she might take it away to supply the wants of Robert and little Kirsty Mail.

Etta looked calmly at her, as if she either

did not hear or did not understand what she said. But her father answered, 'Certainly, certainly. Why did you not ask for it before? I did not know they were travellers too. I thought they were your own boy and girl.'

Robert's cheeks flamed. To think of anybody's mistaking him for a son of old Bawby Yunson's! And yet was it to be wondered at? he admitted, thinking of his own rude and travel-stained appearance, and reflecting that people so accustomed to wealth and luxury as those before him, were little likely to observe those subtle marks of different rank which had hitherto been very visible to his own eyes. As for little Kirsty Mail, she was all in crimson confusion to think that anybody could imagine her a sister of young Mr. Robert Sinclair; how angry it would make him!—such a smart young gentleman as he was!

Mrs. Yunson made sundry strategic movements by which she contrived to suggest that even these humbler guests must have some share of the drying warmth of the fire before they could be suffered to depart. The gentleman pushed back his chair and made room for Kirsty.

'And where do you come from? And how did you get here?' he asked, looking at her