"I was aye chief wi' Kirstin. I liked her--maybe she didna dislike me. I've weeded her flowers to her mony a time. I was throughither whiles in my young days, Miss Ross--no very, but gey. I yince loupit from the top of our garden wa' wi' her wee sister in my arms--I had near gotten a lilt with it, for I twisted my ancle--and that would have been a misfortune." "Ye trampit on my fit--it's never been right since," said Mrs. Yammer; "ye never were out o' mischief." Miss Crankie gave a sidelong look up to Anne, with her odd, merry, little black eyes, and laughed; she took the accusation as a compliment. "Weel, but that's no my story. Ye see, Miss Ross, they were never like ither folk--there was aye something about them--I canna describe it. Mrs. Clippie, the Captain's wife, was genteeler than them--to tell the truth we were genteeler oursels; but for a' that, there was just something--I never could ken what it was. They keepit no company, but a' the lads were daft about Marion." "What Marion?" exclaimed Anne, eagerly. "Oh, just Marion Lillie, Kirstin's sister." "Marion Lillie!" a wild thrill of hope, and fear, and wonder shot through Anne's frame. What could that strange conjunction of names portend? "So ye see, the young gentleman, Mr. Rutherford, of Redheugh, came to the countryside--and Kirstin's house is near his gate, and so he behoved to see the bonnie face at the window. It wasna like he could miss it. "Before lang he had gotten very chief wi' the haill family--they didna tak it as ony honor--they were just as if they thought themsels the young Laird's equals; but they were awfu' fond o' him. I have seen Patrick's face flush like fire if onybody minted a slighting word of young Redheugh--no that it was often done, for there was never a man better likit--and Kirstin herself treated him like anither brother, and for Marion--weel, she was but a lassie; but the Laird and her were just like the light of ilk ither's e'en. "Ye may think, Miss Ross, there was plenty said about it in the countryside. Rich folk said it wasna right, and puir folk said it wasna right; but Kirstin guarded her young sister so, that naebody daured mint a word of ill--it was only spite and ill-nature. "Maybe, Miss Ross, your maid will carry ben the tray? or I can cry upon Sarah." Miss Crankie lifted up her voice and called at its loudest pitch for her handmaiden. Sarah entered, and cleared away the tea equipage with Jacky's tardy assistance. Jacky was by no means pleased to find her attendance no longer necessary; she had managed to hear a good deal of the story, and thirsted anxiously for its conclusion. "Bring me my basket, Sarah," said Miss Crankie. "Miss Ross, ye'll excuse me if I take my work. I have no will to be idle--it's an even down punishment to me."