My grandmother said nothing of any importance on the way home. She was evidently thinking deeply, and confined herself to "Hush, you there!" and "Do ye hear what I was saying to ye?" Under a fire of suchlike remarks, delivered more or less at random, and without the least discrimination between the barking of Crazy (the effect) and me (the cause)--I kept a little in the rear so that I might have a sober face on me when she turned round, while the less subtle Crazy galloped in furious circles yapping and leaping up even in my grandmother's face. He was, however, useful in drawing her fire, and though I had to keep a sharp look-out for the stones she caught up to throw at Crazy (who ran no personal danger) our home-coming was effected in good order and with considerable amusement to myself. But on her arrival at Heathknowes, Mrs. Mary Lyon found that there were forces in the universe which even she was powerless to conquer. Meg, the "indoor" lass at Heathknowes, refused point-blank to go one foot in the direction of the "Ghaist's Hoose." She persisted in her refusal even when addressed by the awe-inspiring baptismal name of Margaret Simprin Hetherington, and reminded of the terms of her engagement. No, Margaret Simprin Hetherington would not--could not--dared not--stay a night in the great house of Marnhoul. Whatever my grandmother might say it was not so nominated in the bond. She had been hired to serve about the farmhouse of Heathknowes, and she did not mind carrying their dinners to the workmen in the saw-mill---- "No," interpolated my grandmother, "nor taking an hour-and-a-half to do it in!" Upon which, as if stirred by some association of ideas, Meg added that she would go none to Marnhoul Big Hoose, "because not a soul would come near the place." It did not matter whether _she_ believed in Grey Ladies with rain-drops pattering through them or not--other people did, and she would not be banished "among the clocks and rattons"--no, not for double wages! My grandmother, indeed, explained that there was no question of ladies grey or rain-drops pattering, but of obedience to her legal mistress. But she knew that the cause was lost, and I am quite sure anticipated the reply of Margaret Simprin Hetherington, which was to the effect that no lass, indoor or outdoor, was more willing to obey her mistress than she, but it would be in the place in which she had been hired to serve--there and not elsewhere.