'Ay, and wha's he when he's at hame, Mistress?' Captain M'Taggart said.

'He's not fifty miles away frae here anyway,' she said. 'And if I was to tell ye that he's sitting not three yards away frae ye at this meenit?'

'Katie, woman, are ye daft?' Ronald said, and he laughed, but his forehead grew red all the same.

'No, I'm no,' she answered confidently. 'I ken what I'm saying as weel as most folk. Oh, I've heard some o' the best o' them—no at the Harmony Club, for they're too high and mighty to let women bodies in—but at the City Hall concerts and in the theatres; and I've got a good enough ear, too; I ken what's what; and I ken if my cousin Ronald were to stand up at the Saturday Evening Concerts, and sing the song he sung in this very room last night, I tell ye he would take the shine out o' some o' them!'

'He micht gie us a screed now,' Mr. Laidlaw suggested—his somewhat lack-lustre eyes going from his hostess to Ronald.

'Faith, no!' Ronald said, laughing, 'there's been ower great a flourish beforehand. The fact is, Mrs. Menzies here——'

'I thought I telled ye my name was Kate?' she said sharply.

'Kate, Cat, or Kitten, then, as ye like, woman, what I mean to say is that ower long a grace makes the porridge cold. Some other time—some other time, lass.'

'Ay, and look here, Mr. Jaap,' continued the widow, who was determined that her cousin's superior qualifications should not be hidden, 'ye are aye complaining that ye canna get anything but trash to set your tunes to. Well, here's my cousin; I dinna ken if he still keeps at the trade, but as a laddie he could just write ye anything ye liked right aff the reel, and as good as Burns, or better. There's your chance now. Everybody says your music's jist splendid—and the choruses taken up in a meenit—but you just ask Ronald there to gie ye something worth while making a song o'.'

Now not only did the old man express his curiosity to see some of Ronald's work in this way, and also the gratification it would give him to set one of his songs to music, but Ronald was likewise well pleased with the proposal. His own efforts in adapting tunes to his verses he knew were very amateurish; and would it not be a new sensation—a little pride commingled with the satisfaction perhaps—to have one of his songs presented with an original air all to itself, and perhaps put to the test of being sung before some more or less skilled audience? He knew he had dozens to choose from; some of them patriotic, others convivial, others humorous in a kind of way: from any of these the musician was welcome to select as he liked. The love songs about Meenie were a class apart.