Mrs. Gowdy too had her own schemes and wishes. She was surely and secretly putting by money, and intended Maggie to marry a minister, and if Jock went out in the world, and Andy took a wife, she had made up her mind to end her days in Glasgow, and in peace; leaving the young ones to carry on the farm. Ardnashiel was paying well; they had only lost five sheep that winter; they were getting good prices; she had no shepherds to pay, and no wages; it was little going out and most coming in. Of course, it was main dull for the bairns, puir bodies, but they were young--and could wait. The moor surrounding the grim blue-grey home of the Gowdys was celebrated for an historical past, and a certain wild beauty peculiarly its own; the romantic winding glen, guarded by steep mountains, was watered by a capricious and picturesque river, which received many tributaries. A rough cart track connected the glen with a high road, which was seven miles distant, and in winter time the farmers and cotters of Ardnashiel were frequently cut off from the outer world for weeks. No wonder Maggie Gowdy dreaded these dark, dour days, the leaden skies, the vast outlook on snow--snow, nothing but snow. Her heart sank within her when, late in October, she watched the tenants of a neighbouring shooting lodge pass down the rutty tracks, with their servants, and luggage, and dogs--a long and imposing procession. As the last cart turned the corner and was lost to sight, Maggie had known what it was to rest her head between her knees and sob aloud. Oh, winter was cruel to all the world, and especially to her; but her mother was a woman of extraordinary force of character, and kept everything going--the lads at the sheep-feeding and their books, and herself at sewing and knitting. Summer and Autumn made some amends; the streams ran merrily, the curlew called, the sheep bleated, the swallows and the shooters returned, and the white mountains were clothed in purple. When the day's work was over, the cows milked, the fowls fed, Mrs. Gowdy would repair to her parlour in order to add up her accounts. This was her period of mental refreshment, and if the lambs had sold well, and fleeces were heavy, her heart was light. Jean Gowdy lived meagrely below, in four rooms, a kitchen and three bedrooms. She and Maggie washed at the pump, and shared one bed and a sixpenny looking-glass.