“Far be it from me to say what a young lady like you should do. I’m nothing but an old-fashioned person myself. In my days the young were brought up to obedience and consideration of other folks’ ways. But I’m not a learned man like the doctor, nor a whillie-wha like the doctor’s wife. I’m of the old Hay-Heriot stock, that always spoke their mind. Betty, bring ben the broth--if our young ladies can sup broth. They tell me my nephew Charlie has brought a grand cook to the house, far above our old-fashioned Scots dishes.” “Indeed, Aunt Jean, it is the old dishes she is famous for,” said May, very conciliatory. “She says she knows nothing about kickshaws, and one of the things I specially wanted was to ask you for the old family receipt for shortbread, which you always promised me, and your particular fish and sauce, which Uncle Charles says is the best he ever tasted.” “I suppose you think you can win me over with your nonsense about fish and sauce,” said Miss Jean. “Set Charlie up with his cooks and his newfangled ways! In my days a man ate what was set before him, and said his grace, and was thankful. The mistress of a house, with all her family to provide for, might be excused for giving her mind to it; but, ugh! a man studying what he’s to put into his vile stomach! If there’s a thing I cannot abide--Dinner’s ready! You need not tell me that; it’s been ready any time this twenty minutes. You may say to Jess I’m truly sorry for her, but it’s our young ladies’ way. Go first, bairn, and go quick, for I’ll not wait another moment, if it was for the Queen herself.” Thus adjured, Milly ran downstairs, followed by her sister. The old lady brought up the rear, with her big cane. She was a little old woman over seventy, in a large cap with many ribbons and borders of broad blonde, which waved about her withered face as she moved. It was a small face, much shrivelled up, but lighted with two blazing sparks of light, deeply sunk within the eaves and folds of her eyelids--eyes which could see what happened a mile off, and burn through and through any unfortunate who was subjected to their gaze. She wore a red China crape shawl, very old, but once very richly embroidered and handsome, on her thin shoulders, and her short footstep and the tap of her cane rang through the house as she moved. Everybody within her range increased their exertions, and moved with doubled activity when the tap of Miss Jean’s cane became audible.