Chapter 25 - Page 2

beard that even the most
converted must envy, and a frown sat on his brows all the way, proving
him possibly ill-tempered, but also one of the notable few who can think
hard about one thing for at least five consecutive minutes. Many took a
glint at him as he passed, but missed the frown, they were wondering so
much why the fur of his heavy top-coat was on the inside, where it made
little show, save at blasty corners.

Miss Ailie was in her parlor, trying to give her mind to a blue and
white note-book, but when she saw who was coming up the garden she
dropped the little volume and tottered to her bedroom. She was there
when Gavinia came up to announce that she had shown a gentleman into the
blue-and-white room, who gave the name of Ivie McLean. "Tell him--I
shall come down--presently," gasped Miss Ailie, and then Gavinia was
sure this was the man who was making her mistress so unhappy.

"She's so easily flichtered now," Gavinia told Tommy in the kitchen,
"that for fear o' starting her I never whistle at my work without
telling her I'm to do't, and if I fall on the stair, my first thought is
to jump up and cry, 'It was just me tum'ling.' And now I believe this
brute'll be the death o' her."

"But what can he do to her?"

"I dinna ken, but she's greeting sair, and yon can hear how he's
rampaging up and down the blue-and-white room. Listen to his thrawn
feet! He's raging because she's so long in coming down, and come she
daurna. Oh, the poor crittur!"

Now, Tommy was very fond of his old school-mistress, and he began to be
unhappy with Gavinia.

"She hasna a man-body in the world to take care o' her," sobbed the
girl.

"Has she no?" cried Tommy, fiercely, and under one of the impulses that
so easily mastered him he marched into the blue-and-white room.

"Well, my young friend, and what may you want?" asked Mr. McLean,
impatiently.

Tommy sat down and folded his arms. "I'm going to sit here and see what
you do to Miss Ailie," he said, determinedly.

Mr. McLean said "Oh!" and then seemed favorably impressed, for he added
quietly: "She is a friend of yours, is she? Well, I have no intention of
hurting her."

"You had better no," replied Tommy, stoutly.

"Did she send you here?"

"No; I came mysel'."

"To protect her?"

There was the irony in it that so puts up a boy's dander. "Dinna think,"
said Tommy, hotly, "that I'm fleid at you, though I have no beard--at
least, I hinna it wi' me."

At this unexpected conclusion a smile crossed Mr. McLean's face, but was