But indeed so constantly was the grass mown to keep it short, that there was scarcely a daisy to be seen in it, the long broad lines of white linen usurping their place, and in their stead keeping up the contrast of white and green. Around Tibbie and Annie however the daisies were shining back to the sun, confidently, with their hearts of gold and their rays of silver. And the butter-cups were all of gold; and the queen-of-the-meadow, which grew tall at the water-side, perfumed the whole region with her crown of silvery blossom. Tibbie's blind face was turned towards the sun; and her hands were busy as ants with her knitting needles, for she was making a pair of worsted stockings for Annie against the winter. No one could fit stockings so well as Tibbie. "Wha's that comin', lassie?" she asked. Annie, who had heard no one, glanced round, and, rising, said, "It's Thomas Crann." "That's no Thomas Crann," rejoined Tibbie. "I dinna hear the host (cough) o' 'im." Thomas came up, pale and limping a little. "That's no Thomas Crann?" repeated Tibbie, before he had time to address her. "What for no, Tibbie?" returned Thomas. "'Cause I canna hear yer breath, Thamas." "That's a sign that I hae the mair o' 't, Tibbie. I'm sae muckle better o' that ashma, that I think whiles the Lord maun hae blawn into my nostrils anither breath o' that life that he breathed first into Edam an' Eve." "I'm richt glaid to hear't, Thamas. Breath maun come frae him ae gait or ither." "Nae doobt, Tibbie." "Will ye sit doon asides's, Thamas? It's lang sin' I hae seen ye." Tibbie always spoke of _seeing_ people. "Ay will I, Tibbie. I haena muckle upo' my han's jist the day. Ye see I haena won richt into my wark again yet." "Annie an' me 's jist been haeing a crack thegither aboot this thing an' that thing, Thamas," said Tibbie, dropping her knitting on her knees, and folding her palms together. "Maybe _ye_ could tell me whether there be ony likeness atween the licht that I canna see and that soun' o' the water rinnin', aye rinnin', that I like sae weel to hear." For it did not need the gentle warm wind, floating rather than blowing down the river that afternoon, to bring to their ears the sound of the _entick_, or dam built across the river, to send the water to the dyer's wheel; for that sound was in Tibbie's cottage day and night, mingled with the nearer, gentler, and stronger gurgling of the swift, deep, _deedie_ water in the race, that hurried, aware of its work, with small noise and much soft-sliding force towards the wheel. "Weel, ye see, Tibbie," answered Thomas, "it's nearhan' as ill for the like o' us to unnerstan' your blin'ness as it may be for you to unnerstan' oor sicht."