"I wad think no, juist," cried Mistress Fraser, who in an inner room was busy putting a selection of small white things into a covered reticule basket. "An puir Mirren, she'll no be ready for the like. Wha could be prepared for a hale nation like this—I'll tak' her what I hae. O, the deceitfu' besom—I declare it wad tak' a little to gar me never speak to her again." "Dinna do that!" said the hypocritical giant; "think on her condeetion——" "Condeetion, condeetion, quo' he—I wonder ye are no black ashamed, Alick Douglas. And nane o' the twa o' ye ever to say a word to me, that's your nearest neebour——" "I gie ye my word," said Muckle Alick, "I kenned nocht aboot it till an hour or twa afore the bairns cam' hame!" Mistress Fraser turned fiercely upon him. "Weel, for a' the leers in this pairish—and there are some rousers—ye beat them clean, Alick Douglas—and you an elder amang the Cameronian kirk! Hoo daur ye face your Maker, to say nocht o' the kirk folk as ye stand at the plate on Sabbaths, wi' siccan lees in your mouth? "Come awa, man," she cried from the door in her haste, "I hae twa bagfu's o' things here. Tam, gang ower by to the Folds and up to Cowdenslack and borrow their twa cradles. They'll no be needing them for a month or twa—I ken that brawly—na, they are straight-forrit women, and never spring the like o' this on puir folk to set them a' in a flutter!" "I think a single cradle wad do. It was a' that Mirren asked for," said Alick demurely; "but please yoursel', Mistress Fraser, it is you that kens." "Yin," cried Mistress Fraser, "the man's gane gyte. Gin ye wull bring a family into the warld by squads o' regiments, ye maun e'en tak' the consequences. Lod, Lod, three cradles a' rockin' at the same time in yae hoose, it will be like a smiddy—or a watchmaker's shop! It'll be fine exerceese for ye, Alick, my man, when ye come hame at nichts—nae mair planting o' nasty-hurcheons and pollyanthies. But every foot on a cradle rocker, and the lassie's yin to pu' wi' a string. An' serve ya baith richt. O, the deceitfu' madam; wait till I get ower to the Sandyknowes!" And Alick had to take his longest strides to keep pace with the anxious mother of eleven—to whom he had told no lie, though, as he afterwards said, he "had maybes keeped his thumb on some blauds o' the truth." "It shows," said Alick, "what a differ there is atween the truth and the hale truth—specially when there's a reason annexed in the shape of a woman's imagination, that naturally rins on sic like things." But as they neared Sandyknowes it is not to be doubted that Alick grew a little anxious. His position would not be exactly a pleasant one, if, for instance, Mirren should suddenly come out of their little byre with a full luggie of milk. And it was about milking time. "There doesna appear to be muckle steer aboot the place, for siccan an awfu' thing to hae happened so lately!" said Mistress Fraser.