David.  I did feel bitterly, father, the want of education. [Without knowing it, he has a beautiful way of pronouncing this noble word.]

Maggie [holding out a kind hand to him].  David.

Alick.  I’ve missed it sore, David.  Even now I feel the want of it in the very marrow of me.  I’m ashamed to think I never gave you your chance.  But when you were young I was so desperate poor, how could I do it, Maggie?

Maggie.  It wasn’t possible, father.

Alick [gazing at the book-shelves].  To be able to understand these books!  To up with them one at a time and scrape them as clean as though they were a bowl of brose.  Lads, it’s not to riches, it’s to scholarship that I make my humble bow.

James [who is good at bathos].  There’s ten yards of them.  And they were selected by the minister of Galashiels.  He said—­

David [quickly].  James.

James.  I mean—­I mean—­

Maggie [calmly].  I suppose you mean what you say, James.  I hear, David, that the minister of Galashiels is to be married on that Miss Turnbull.

David [on guard].  So they were saying.

Alick.  All I can say is she has made a poor bargain.

Maggie [the damned].  I wonder at you, father.  He’s a very nice gentleman.  I’m sure I hope he has chosen wisely.

James.  Not him.

Maggie [getting near her tragedy].  How can you say that when you don’t know her?  I expect she is full of charm.

Alick.  Charm?  It’s the very word he used.

David.  Havering idiot.

Alick.  What is charm, exactly, Maggie?

Maggie.  Oh, it’s—­it’s a sort of bloom on a woman.  If you have it, you don’t need to have anything else; and if you don’t have it, it doesn’t much matter what else you have.  Some women, the few, have charm for all; and most have charm for one.  But some have charm for none.

[Somehow she has stopped knitting.  Her men-folk are very depressed.  James brings his fist down on the table with a crash.]

James [shouting].  I have a sister that has charm.

Maggie.  No, James, you haven’t.

James [rushing at her with the watch and chain].  Ha’e, Maggie.

[She lets them lie in her lap.]

David.  Maggie, would you like a silk?

Maggie.  What could I do with a silk? [With a gust of passion] You might as well dress up a little brown hen.

[They wriggle miserably.]

James [stamping].  Bring him here to me.

Maggie.  Bring whom, James?

James.  David, I would be obliged if you wouldn’t kick me beneath the table.

Maggie [rising].  Let’s be practical; let’s go to our beds.

[This reminds them that they have a job on hand in which she is not to share.]