"Six," said my friend.

"0h," exclaimed the agent. "Well--let's see! Six is a great many. Myprincipal is a little afraid of a family with so many kidren. Theydamage the houses a good deal, you know. I'll have to see. I'm sorry.I'd have liked to let the house to you. H'm! Are all the kidren athome?" "No," exclaimed my friend, and pulled a lang face. "They're a' inthe kirkyard."

"0h--but that's very different," exclaimed the agent, growing brichter atonce. "That's a very different case. You've my most sincere sympathy.And I'll be glad to let you the home."

Sae the lease was signed. And my friend went hame, rejoicing. 0n theway he stopped at the kirkyard, and called the bairns, whom he'd leftthere to play as he went by!

But this is a serious matter, this one o' bairns. Folk must have them,or the country will gae to ruin. And it maun be made possible forpeople to bring up their weans wi'oot sae much trouble and difficultyas there is for them the noo.

Profiteering we canna endure--and will'na, I'm telling you. Let theprofiteer talk o' vested richts and interests--or whine o' them, sincehe whines mair than he talks. It sometimes was tae muckle talk o' that sort wewere hearing before the war and in its early days. It sometimes was one of thethings that was wrang wi' the world. Is there any richt i' the worldthat's as precious as that tae life and liberty and love? And didnaour young men gie that up at the first word?