The little wife grew red and white, and laughed hysterically; then she sank down on the floor at Martha’s feet, and clasped her arms round the elder sister’s waist, and wept quietly with her face hidden. It was too much for them all. “And it’s an enchanted castle, and there’s a Dragon in it,” cried Violet joyously; “but, Rosie, Rosie, there should be a knight. Oh! I ken who it is--I ken who it is; it’s Mr. Charteris!” “Lettie, what nonsense!” exclaimed Rose, who at that moment became extremely upright and proper. “I ken; you’re the princess, Rosie, and Mr. Charteris is the knight; and maybe there’s fairies about the burn! Oh! I wish I was there!--me and little Katie Calder!” Martha lifted the other letters from the table; they had been forgotten in the interest of this. One of them was from Uncle Sandy; the other was a note from Cuthbert, enclosing his sketch--an extremely brief note, saying little--yet Rose examined it over her sister’s shoulder stealthily, while the others looked at the drawing. There was nothing peculiar about the hand; and Rose did not understand the art of gleaning traits of character out of hair-strokes--yet her eyes went over it slowly, tracing the form of every letter. Poor Cuthbert! he thought this same Rose would be very much interested about his drawing; it seemed for the moment that these plain characters occupied her more. CHAPTER IV. A pair of friends--though I was young And Matthew seventy-three. WORDSWORTH. “EH, wee Hairy!” cried Miss Aggie Rodger, “your faither’s a muckle man noo; do you ken that, my pet? and you’ll ride in a coach, and get a grand powney o’ your ain, and eat grossets and pu’ flowers a’ the simmer through; do you hear that, my wee boy? But ye’ll have to gang away, Hairy, and what’ll we a’ do wanting ye?” “It’s me that’s to get the pony,” said Violet. “I’m to ride into Stirling to the school every day, and I want Martha to buy a pillion for Katie Calder, and then, Miss Aggie, _I_ can sit before, and Katie behind, like the lady in Lochinvar; but it’s me that’s to get the pony.” “Preserve me, what a grand lady!” said Miss Aggie, throwing up little Harry in her arms; “but the wee boy’s the heir for a’ that--are ye no, Hairy?” “But I want to ken how we’re to get to Stirling,” said Violet. “I ken about the Castle and the Ladies’ Rock, and all the places where the Douglas played, and where Lufra chased the deer, and King James coming down the High Street, too; but Mr. John, will you tell me how we’re to get to Stirling?” “I never was there myself, Lettie,” said the idle man; “but there’s a map of Scotland in that auld book--see, down yonder in the corner, behind ‘Hervey’s Meditations’--that’s it--and we’ll look and see.” The book was a dingy and tattered one, and beside it lay a very old copy of Young’s “Night Thoughts,” which Violet brought with her in her hand.