“Her sister Phemie was faur cleverer than she was,” said Jinnet. “She couldna haud a candle to her sister Phemie in tambourin’ or in ginger-breid.” “And dancin’! She could dance on a cobweb and no’ put a toe through’t.” “Ye’ll need a line wi’ that yin, Erchie,” said his wife, who did not seem remarkably jealous of this first love. “Ye should hear her singin’------” “She wad hae been far better mendin’ her wee brither’s stockin’s, and no’ leavin’ her mither to dae’t,” said Jinnet. “She was a gey licht-heided yin.” Erchie seemed merciless in his reminiscence,--I really felt sorry for his wife. “Ye may say whit ye like to run her doon, but ye canna deny her looks.”. “Her looks dinna concern me,” said Jinnet abruptly. “Ye’re jist an auld haver; think shame o’ yersel’!” “Ye ken ye canna deny’t,” he went on. “It was alooed all over the place she was the belle. I wasna the only yin that was efter her wi’ my lavender breeks. She kept the Band o’ Hope for nearly twa years frae burstin’ up.” “I’ll no’ listen to anither word,” protested Jinnet, now in obvious vexation; and mercifully there came a rapping at the door. She returned to the kitchen with an envelope and a little parcel. Erchie winked at me, hugging to himself a great delight. “I wonder wha in the world can be writin’ to me,” said she, looking at the addresses. “It’ll likely be an accoont for di’mond tararas or dressmaking,” said Erchie. “Oh you weemen! Ye’re a perfect ruination. But if I was you I wad open them and see.” She opened the envelope first. It was Erchie’s valentine, and she knew it, for when she read the verse she shook her head at him laughingly, and a little ashamed. “When will ye be wise?” said she. Then she opened the little parcel: it contained a trivial birthday gift from an anonymous friend in whose confidence only I, of all the three in the room, happened to be. Vainly they speculated about his identity without suspecting me; but I noticed that it was on her valentine Jinnet set most value. She held it long in her hand, thinking, and was about to put it into a chest of drawers without letting me see it. “Ye needna be hidin’ it,” said her husband then. “He saw it already. Faith! he helped me to pick it.” “I’m fair affronted,” she exclaimed, reddening at this exposure. “You and your valenteens!” “There’s naething wrang wi’ valenteens,” said her husband. “If it wasna for a valenteen I wad never hae got ye. I could never say to your face but that I liked ye; but the valenteen had a word that’s far mair brazen than ‘like,’ ye mind.” “Oh, Erchie!” I cried, “you must have been blate in these days. The word was----” He put up his hand in alarm and stopped me. “Wheesht!” said he. “It’s a word that need never be mentioned here where we’re a’ three Scotch!” “But what came over the first lass, Erchie?” I asked, determined to have the end of that romance. He looked across at his wife and smiled. “She’s there hersel’,” said he, “and ye better ask her.”