Mary coloured and shook her head, but a smile peeped from her eyes in a passing glance, which effectually dissipated the threatening shower. 'I shall look out poor baby's chain, and the things she was picked up in, and give them to you to show Major Steele. So mind you come for them before we go.' CHAPTER XXX. _TIBBIE'S TROUBLES_. Elspeth Macaulay sat in her doorway and basked in the autumn sun repining, and browning herself like the hazel nuts in the adjoining thicket, which, like herself, were hard of shell, though sweet and sound of heart when you could reach it,--and wrapped in thin wrinkled leathery husks, not far different from the withered parchment which served her aged bones for a fleshly covering. She was very old, but her eye had not grown dim, and her bodily force had not abated. She lived all alone in her shieling perched high on a steep brae looking down the glen, but she felt quite able to do for herself, and carried her eggs and butter to market as blythely as the youngest. The hearth within was clean swept, and the turf on it burned brightly; while the oaten cakes toasting before it diffused a nutty fragrance through the house. As Elspeth sat knitting her stocking and looking down the glen extended beneath her, she spied a white mutch on the highroad wending towards her. Presently it reached the 'slap' in the stone and divot dyke, where the footpath leading to her own residence debouched on the road. The wearer of the mutch passed through the slap and proceeded to thread the upward path. 'Preserve us a'!' she muttered to herself, 'wha's this? It's no mony comes in as they gae by to see Elspeth noo a days! I'se fesh out the kebbock, it looks hearty. An' there's few comes to pree't noo. Na! na! They're a' yardet maist, my cronies, by noo. An' them 'at's t'ey fore yet's ower dottle to travel that far! I'm no wantin' the young gomerals either, 'at stuffs their head i' bannets, an' thinks to be mista'en for their betters! But here's a decent auld wife 'at's no abune wearin' a mutch like her mither 'at gaed afore her.' The huge cheese was produced from the awmry, the toasting cakes turned before the fire, and Elspeth was back in her place before the guest had mounted the brae. 'An' is that yersel', Tibbie Tirpie?' she presently exclaimed as the wearer of the mutch, slowly mounting, began to raise her head over the edge where the hill slid down out of sight. 'Hoo's wi' ye, woman? I'm blythe to get a sicht o' ye.' 'An hoo's yoursel', Elspeth! Hech sirs! But that's a stey brae for auld folk! It's braw when ye're up, but it's a sair job to clim't.'