The creature roused my interest with her odd answers and wistful round eyes. “Shut the door and come here,” said I. “Do you know me? and what tempted you to think _you_ could do for my servant? Were you ever in a place before?” “No; but I’ve seen you gaun by, the Captain and you, and I would be awfu’ glad if you would let me come. There’s plenty things I can do if I could get leave to try,” cried the girl with a wonderful commotion in her voice. “I’ve nursed bairns since ever I was a bairn myself, and I can wash, and I can sew. Oh, leddy, tak me! I’ll no eat very much, and I dinna want no wage; and I’ll learn everything you tell me, for the mistress says I’m awfu’ quick at learning; and I’ll serve you hand and foot, nicht and day!” “But, my poor girl,” said I, quite amazed by this burst of eloquence, “why do you want so much to come to me?” Upon this another extraordinary change came upon my would-be maid. She fidgeted about, she blushed fiery red, she thrust her red hands into the bosom of her pinafore, she stood upon one heavy foot, making all sorts of wonderful twists and contortions with the other. At last in gulps, and with every demonstration of the most extreme confusion and shame-facedness, burst forth the following avowal. “Oh! because you’re rael bonnie; and you smile--and oh, I would like to come!” It was an extraordinary kind of flattery, certainly; but I felt my cheeks flush up, and I cannot deny my heart was touched. I remember too, when I was a little girl, taking fancies to people; I believe I might have fallen in love with a lady and gone and offered myself to be her servant, as likely as not if I could have done it. The uncouth creature no more meant to flatter me than to offend me. She was deeply ashamed of having made her confession. Her shame, and her admiration, and her passionate childish feeling quite went to my heart. “You are a very strange girl,” said I. “What is your name, and where do you live? and do your parents know what you want with me?” “They ca’ me Leczie Bayne. My father died six months since,” said the girl, falling into a kind of vacant tone after her excitement, as if this account of herself was something necessary to go through, but not otherwise interesting. “I never had any mother, only a stepmother, and lots of little bairns. She’s gaun back to her ain place, among her friends, and I’m to be left, for I’ve naebody belonging to me. We live down the road, and I used ay to see you gaun by. Whiles you used to smile at me, no thinking; but I ay minded. And the folk said you we’re awfu’ happy with the Captain, and had a kind look for everybody,--and oh, leddy, I’ve naebody belonging to me!”