Every time Jess paused to think she cried up orders, such as-- "Dinna call her Tibbie, mind ye. Always address her as Mistress Curly." "Shak' hands wi' baith o' them, an' say ye hope they're in the enjoyment o' guid health." "Dinna put yer feet on the table." "Mind, you're no' to mention 'at ye kent they were in the toon." "When onybody passes ye yer tea say, 'Thank ye.'" "Dinna stir yer tea as if ye was churnin' butter, nor let on 'at the scones is no our am bakin'." "If Tibbie says onything aboot the china yer no' to say 'at we dinna use it ilka day." "Dinna lean back in the big chair, for it's broken, an' Leeby's gi'en it a lick o' glue this meenute." "When Leeby gies ye a kick aneath the table that'll be a sign to ye to say grace." Hendry looked at me apologetically while these instructions came up. "I winna dive my head wi' sic nonsense," he said; "it's no' for a man body to be sae crammed fu' o' manners." "Come awa doon," Jess shouted to him, "an' put on a clean dickey." "I'll better do't to please her," said Hendry, "though for my ain part I dinna like the feel o' a dickey on week-days. Na, they mak's think it's the Sabbath." Ten minutes afterwards I went downstairs to see how the preparations were progressing. Fresh muslin curtains had been put up in the room. The grand footstool, worked by Leeby, was so placed that Tibbie could not help seeing it; and a fine cambric handkerchief, of which Jess was very proud, was hanging out of a drawer as if by accident. An antimacassar lying carelessly on the seat of a chair concealed a rent in the horse-hair, and the china ornaments on the mantelpiece were so placed that they looked whole. Leeby's black merino was hanging near the window in a good light, and Jess's Sabbath bonnet, which was never worn, occupied a nail beside it. The tea-things stood on a tray in the kitchen bed, whence they could be quickly brought into the room, just as if they were always ready to be used daily. Leeby, as yet in deshabille, was shaving her father at a tremendous rate, and Jess, looking as fresh as a daisy, was ready to receive the visitors. She was peering through the tiny window-blind looking for them. "Be cautious, Leeby," Hendry was saying, when Jess shook her hand at him. "Wheesht," she whispered; "they're comin'." Hendry was hustled into his Sabbath coat, and then came a tap at the door, a very genteel tap. Jess nodded to Leeby, who softly shoved Hendry into the room. The tap was repeated, but Leeby pushed her father into a chair and thrust Barrow's Sermons open into his hand. Then she stole but the house, and swiftly buttoned her wrapper, speaking to Jess by nods the while. There was a third knock, whereupon Jess said, in a loud, Englishy voice-- "Was that not a chap (knock) at the door?" Hendry was about to reply, but she shook her fist at him. Next moment Leeby opened the door. I was upstairs, but I heard Jess say--