her that they were the best "condeetions" that he had made in his
whole forty-five years of life.

Suddenly remembering her mistress's troubles, the happy light died out
of Mary's face, and turning anxiously to her now contented lover she
said eagerly, "And now, lad, do try and think o' something to help
them. If nothing else can be done, there is the train; if it is missed
there will be so much more time."

"Nay, lass," John answered, as he sat down, "the train scheme is no
good; for I'm sure the missus would, as she has threatened, leave the
house if he didn't go to-night."

Picking up his glasses and slowly polishing them, John continued
ruminatingly, "Like thee, Mary, I believe her heart's warm towards
him, but it's her pride, and that can only be broken down by deeply
moving her heart. Sure, sure, lass, there's no other way." He was
silent for a brief space and then went on, quietly, speaking to
himself, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the carpet. "And if the boots
don't reach her heart and soften it towards him, there's nowt in this
world that will, sure."

"Now, John, lad, don't ramble on like that; I'm right anxious. Tell me
what's in thy mind," broke in Mary, restlessly, seating herself on a
chair by his side.

"That I will, lass," answered John, briskly, shaking off his
contemplative mood, "for I believe we've now got the key to the
sitiwation. Thou remembers," he went on eagerly, "how, soon after
their little lad's death, the maister ordered that all his toys and