"Ye see," said Miss Crankie, nodding her wiry little curls at the ruddy-colored compounds in the saucers, "we've been making our jelly, and were just trying it. I can recommend the rasps, Miss Ross--the red currants would take a thought mair boiling, and the gooseberries are drumlie--but I can recommend the rasps." "If Miss Ross is no feared for her teeth," sighed Mrs. Yammer. "I got cauld mysel on Sabbath at the Kirk, and was trying the jam for my throat. I'm a puir weak creature, Miss Ross: the wind gangs through me like a knife." "I have returned to you for accommodation, Miss Crankie," said Anne. "Are the rooms unoccupied now?" "Eh, bless me! isna that an uncommon providence," exclaimed Miss Crankie. "Mrs. Mavis is gaun away the morn!" "But what can you do with me to-night?" said Anne. "Oh, nae fear o' us--we'll do grand," said Miss Crankie. "I'm blyth ye're come back Miss Ross, and yet I'm sorry to see you so shilpit. Ye'll find the sea-air do ye mair guid noo. Ye're no looking half sae well as ye did when ye gaed away." "Ah! Miss Ross," said Mrs. Yammer, dolorously, "I hope ye'll use the means and get right advice in time. Ye'll be fashed wi' a pain in your side? For mysel, it's little use saying what I have to thole--there's scarce an hour in the day, that I havna stitches through and through me." "Hout, Tammie, ye're aye meat-hale," responded her brisker sister. "Ye've come at a better season now, Miss Ross, the haill town is full of sea-bathers. I was saying to auld Marget, that she might win a pound or twa for her ain hand, with letting some o' thae muckle rooms, in Schole, and naebody, be the waur--it's sae handy for the sea--if Kirstin Lillie and her brother, hadna come hame sae suddenly." "They are at home, then?" said Anne. "Oh, ay! they came hame about a month ago, in as great a hurry as they gaed away; ane scarce ever sees them noo, even on the sands--they're strange folk." The next day, young Mrs. Mavis and her two blooming children left their sea-side lodgings, and Anne took peaceful possession of her former rooms. The tall gaunt outline of Schole, as it stood out against the deep blue of the evening sky, dismal and forlorn as it was, looked like a friend; but though she lingered about its vicinity all the night, and watched eagerly within sight of its little gate, no one ventured forth. The low projecting window had light within it, but it was curtained carefully. She could see no trace of Christian. Why did they avoid her? why was there so much additional secrecy and seclusion? The second day after their arrival in Aberford, Jacky had a visitor. It was little Bessie, Alice Aytoun's maid. Bessie was living with an aunt, the wife of a forester, whose house was within three or four miles of Aberford. Jacky, by Anne's permission, returned with her to spend the afternoon in the aunt's house.