CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE OLD TOWER My mother was at her knitting, in her easy-chair, in her own particular corner of the living-room when I rushed in, and though she started at the sight of me, she went on knitting as methodically as if all the world was regular as her own stitches.
"So you've come to your own roof at last, my man!" she said, with a touch of the sharpness that she could put into her tongue on occasion.

"There's them would say you'd forgotten the way to it, judging by experience--why did you not let me know you were not coming home last night, and you in the town, as I hear from other folks ?" "Oh, mother!" I exclaimed.

"How can you ask such questions when you know how things are!--it was midnight when Mr.Lindsey and I got in from Newcastle, and he would make me stop with him--and we were away again to Edinburgh first thing in the morning." "Aye, well, if Mr.Lindsey likes to spend his money flying about the country, he's welcome!" she retorted.

"But I'll be thankful when you settle down to peaceful ways again.

Where are you going now ?" she demanded.