“As lang as ye gie me fifty pounds by the year, ye can keep the siller till I hear of mair for it,” said Miss Jean, at last; “but where are favours ye, and does ye charity, ye might show a decent respect. Woman, there’s the like o’ you that never was weel-favoured nor yet young, nor had as guid a wit in your haill buik as I hae in my little finger; but ane bows to ye, and anither gies ye a haud o’ their arm, and a’ body civil, as if ye were something--when ye’re naething but a single woman, without a penny in your purse, and needing to work for your bread day by day. But never ane, if it binna whiles a stranger, like him that put me in the inside of the coach, says a guid-e’en or a guid-day to me; and when I’m useless wi’ my journey, it’s no apples and flagons to keep my heart, but fechting and contentions that I never could bide--for a’ body turns on me.” And the poor old woman mumbled and sobbed, and put up a great dingy handkerchief to her eyes. Uncle Sandy’s offence was gone--he could not see a semblance of distress without an effort to relieve it. “I’ll take ye in a coach to a decent place, Miss Jean,” said Alexander Muir, “and bid them take care of ye, and see ye safe hame, and be at all the charges, if you’ll just think upon your evil ways, and take tent to your ain life, and harm the young and the heedless nae mair.” “He thinks I’m a witch, the auld haverel,” said Miss Jean, looking up with a harsh laugh; “but never you heed, Sandy, we’ll gree; and ye can tell the folk to take me an inside place in the coach, and I’ll take care mysel to see they settle for a’ thing, and I’ll gang away the morn; so ye can gie them the siller--or I’ll take charge of it and pay them mysel--its a’ the same to me.” CHAPTER XVIII. All men make faults, and even I in this; Authorizing thy trespass with compare, Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are. SHAKSPERE.