"Yes; she said she was muckle obleeged to me, but the coals were so poor and hard she couldna batter them up to start a fire the nicht, and she would try the box-bed to see if she could sleep in it. I am glad to remember that it was you who telegraphed for her, Penelope." "Let there be no recriminations," I responded; "let us stand shoulder to shoulder in this calamity,--isn't there a story called 'Calamity Jane?' We might live at the inn, and give her the cottage for a summer residence, but I utterly refuse to be parted from our cat and the 1602 lintel." After I have once described Miss Grieve I shall not suffer her to begloom these pages as she did our young lives. She is so exactly like her kind in America that she cannot be looked upon as a national type. Everywhere we go we see fresh, fair-haired, sonsie lassies; why should we have been visited with this affliction, we who have no courage in a foreign land to rid ourselves of it? She appears at the door of the kitchen with some complaint, and stands there talking to herself in a depressing murmur until she arrives at the next grievance. Whenever we hear this, which is whenever we are in the sitting-room, we amuse ourselves by chanting lines of melancholy poetry which correspond to the sentiments she seems to be uttering. It is the only way the infliction can be endured, for the sitting-room is so small we cannot keep the door closed habitually. The effect of this plan is something like the following:-- _She_. "The range has sic a bad draft I canna mak' the fire draw!" _We_. "But I'm ower auld for the tears to start, An' sae the sighs maun blaw!" _She_. "The clock i' the hall doesna strike. I have to get oot o' my bed to see the time." _We_. "The broken hairt it kens Nae second spring again!" _She_. "There are not eneuch jugs i' the hoose." _We_. "I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,-- In troth I'm like to greet!" _She_. "The sink drain is na recht." _We_. "An' it's oh! to win awa', awa', An' it's oh! to win awa'!" _She_. "I canna thole a box-bed!" _We_. "Ay, waukin' O Waukin' O an' weary. Sleep I can get nane, Ay waukin' O!" _She_. "It's fair insultin' to rent a hoose wi' so few convenience." _We_. "An' I'm ower auld to fish ony mair, An' I hinna the chance to droon." _She_. "The work is fair sickenin' i' this hoose, an' a' for ane puir body to do by her lane." _We_. "How can ye chant, ye little birds, An' I sae weary, fu' o' care?" _She_. "Ah, but that was a fine family I lived wi' in Glasgy; an' it's a wearifu' day's work I've had the day." _We_. "Oh, why was I spared to cry, wae's me!" _She_. "Why dinna they leave floo'rs i' the garden, makin' sic a mess i' the hoose wi' 'em? It's not for the knowin' what they will be after next!" _We_. "Oh, waly waly up the bank, And waly waly doon the brae!"