It never occurred to him to question that she was far out of his reach. Anybody, he thought, could see at a glance that she was a lady, in a different sense from that in which his sisters bore the name. It was right and fitting that the great professor should give her his card, but who was hethe draper of Kilwinnie-that he should suggest another meeting?

But the second meeting was nearer than either he or Mona anticipated.

"We're going to take tea with Auntie Bell this afternoon," said Rachel next day. "Mr Hogg is going in to Kilwinnie on business, and he says if we don't mind waiting half an hour in the town, he will drive us on to Balbirnie. I want to buy a couple of mats at Mr Brown's; you can depend on the quality there better than anywhere here or in Kirkstoun; and we'll just wait in the shop till Mr Hogg is ready."

"But can he spare the time?" asked Mona uneasily. She knew that Rachel could quite well afford to hire a trap now and then.

"Oh, he's always glad to have a crack with Auntie Bell, not to say a taste of her scones and cream. She is a great hand at scones."

This was magnanimous on Rachel's part, for her own scones were tough and heavy, and though that, of course, she did not know-constituted one of the minor trials of Mona's life.

"But, dear," said Mona, "we are neglecting the shop dreadfully between us."

"Oh, Sally can mind it all right when she's cleaned herself in the afternoon. She is only too glad of a gossip with anybody. It is not as if it was for a constancy like; this is our last call in the meantime. Now the folks will begin to call on us, and some of them will ask us to tea."

Mona tried to smile cordially, but the prospect was not entrancing.

About half-past two, Mr Hogg came round in his "machine." Now "machine," as we all know, is a radical

and levelling word, and in this case it was a question of levelling up, not of levelling down, for Mr Hogg's machine was simply a tradesman's cart. It was small, to be sure, and fairly new and fresh, and nicely varnished, but no one could look at it and doubt that it was what Lucy would have called a "common or garden" cart. Rachel and Mona got in with some difficulty, and they started off along the Kirkstoun road. Here they met Dr Dudley. His short-sighted eyes would never have recognised them had not Rachel leaned forward and bowed effusively; then he lifted his hat and passed on.

They rattled through the streets of Kirkstoun, past the post-office, the tannery, the Baptist chapel, and other buildings of importance; and then drove out to Kilwinnie, where Mr Hogg politely deposited them at Mr Brown's door.

Here, then, Mona saw her "professor" measuring out a dress length of lilac print for a waiting servant-girl, and here the draper saw his fairy princess, his spirit of the coast, alighting with as much grace as possible from John Hogg's

cart.

Mr Brown knew Rachel Simpson. She stopped occasionally to purchase something from him on her way to Auntie Bell's; his sisters often amused themselves by laughing at her dress, and the traveller told him comical stories about the way in which she kept shop.

For it must be clearly understood that Mr Brown's shop was a very different thing from Rachel Simpson's. It was well stocked with substantial goods, and was patronised by all the people round about who really respected themselves. It was no place for "bargains" in the modern sense of the word. It was a commercial eddy left behind by the tide in days when things were expected to wash and to wear. There was no question here of "locking the door, and letting folks see that you did not require to keep the shop." A place like this must, on the face of it, be the chief aim and end of somebody's existence.

Rachel's descent from the cart was a somewhat tedious

process, but at length it was accomplished successfully, and Mr Hogg drove away, promising to return for them in half an hour.

Poor Rachel was not a little flattered by the draper's cordial greeting. Leaving the "young man to do up the print, he came forward, with stammering, uncertain words indeed, but with a beaming smile and outstretched hand. And he might be Provost next year!

"This is my cousin, Miss Maclean," she said.

Mr Brown looked absolutely petrified.

"I think we have met before," said Mona, not a little surprised herself, taking his offered hand. "This is one of the gentlemen, dear, who helped me with my plants."

"Oh," said Rachel rather blankly.

It had required all her "manners" to keep her from giving Mona a candid opinion of the common weeds which were the sole fruit of a long day's ramble, and Rachel had a very poor opinion of any man who could occupy himself with such trash. But, to be sure, he was a good draperand he might be Provost next year!

And then he was so very cordial and friendly-that in itself would have covered a multitude of sins. As soon as Rachel had made up her mind about the mats, he hastened up-stairs, and returned with a stammering invitation from his sisters. Would Miss Simpson and her cousin come up to the drawing-room and wait there? When Mona came to know a little more of the Brown ménage, she wondered how in the world he had ever succeeded in getting that invitation.

But up-stairs they went, and were graciously received by the sisters. Mr Brown was wildly happy, and utterly unable to show himself to any advantage. He wandered aimlessly about, showing Mona this and that, and striving vainly to utter a single sentence consecutively.

"Can't you have tea?" he said in a stage-whisper to his sister.

"Oh, thank you," interposed Rachel with a somewhat oleaginous smile, "it's very kind, I'm sure, but we're on

our way to Mrs Easson's, and we won't spoil our appetites."

"Are you going to be here long?" said the draper to Mona.

"At Borrowness? A few months, I expect."

"Then you'll be doing some more botanising?" "Oh yes."

"There's some very nice things a little bit farther round the coast than we went the other day. Would you come some time with my sister and me?"

"I should be very glad indeed," said Mona warmly. "It is an immense advantage to go with some one who knows the neighbourhood."

"Well, we will arrange the day-later on," and he sighed; "but it won't do to wait too long now."

At this moment Mr Hogg rattled up to the door, and the draper went down and helped his visitors into the cart.

“Why, I declare he's getting to be quite a lady's man," said Rachel when they were well out of hearing. "I wonder what his sisters would say if he was to get married after all." Meanwhile the Browns discussed their visitors.

"It's last year's mantle," said Number one, "but the bonnet's new."

"And what a bonnet!" said Number two.

"And she still shows two or three good inches of red wrist between her glove and her sleeve," said Number three. "Nobody would think that girl was her cousin."

"She's not at all pretty," said Number four, "but she's quite ladylike. Do you know what she is, Philip?"

"I don't," he said nervously, "but I fancy she must be a teacher or something of that kind. She has been very well educated."

"Ah, that would account for it," said Number two. "It must be a nice change for her to come and stay with Miss Simpson."

The draper stood at the window counting up his happiness. There was not a snobbish line in his nature, and Mona was

not any the less a fairy princess in his eyes because she seemed suddenly to have come within his reach. He knew his sisters did not want him to marry, and he was grateful to them now for having crushed in the bud certain little fancies in the past; but if he once made up his mind,-he laughed to himself as he thought how little their remonstrances would weigh with him. Of course there was a great chance that so bright and so clever a girl might refuse him; but fifteen years of his sisters' influence had not taught him to exaggerate this probability, and in that part of the country there is a strong superstition to the effect that a woman teacher is not likely to refuse what is commonly known as "an honest man's love."

CHAPTER XVII.

AUNTIE BELL.

The slanting rays of the afternoon sun were throwing the old farmhouse, with its goodly barns and well-built stacks, into mellow lights and warm brown shadows, when Mr Hogg's pony drew up at the garden-gate. Before they had time to get down, Auntie Bell came out to greet them,— such a queer little woman, bent half double, and peering up at her visitors through her gold spectacles with keen expressive eyes. There was force of character in every line of her face and figure, even in the dowdy cap, the grey wincey gown, and snow-white apron.

"Why, it's Rachel Simpson," she said.

Dick 'll tak' the powny."

"Come awa' ben.

"This is my cousin, Miss Maclean," said Rachel.

"Mona Maclean," corrected the owner of the name.

Auntie Bell gripped her hand and studied her face with as