Lizzie coloured high, made a momentary pause, and dropped her queer curtsey, “Eh no, mem, no you; I couldn’t expect it,” said Lizzie, with a long sigh. Then, after another pause: “If it was a’ to turn out a dream after twa haill days; and, to be sure, it’s three days coming; but if it was a’ to come to naething after a’ this,” smoothing down her new dress, “and a’ the thoughts I’ve had in my mind, eh me! I think I would have nae heart ony mair either to break or bind.” Now, perhaps there was not very much in these words; but they were so exactly what I had been thinking myself, that they seemed to make a new link between me and my odd child-maid. “That is just what I have been thinking--but with far, far more reason,” said I; “for, oh, Lizzie! war’s proclaimed, and Mr. Langham may have to leave me; it might happen any day; and what should I do alone?” “Oh, mem, dinna greet!” said Lizzie loudly: “dinna let tears fa’ on the wee baby; but I ken what you would do. Just nurse the bairn, and pray the Lord, and wait. If you were sending me awa’, it would be never to come back again; but if the Captain gangs to the wars he’ll come hame a great general; maybe he would have a ribbon at his breast and a Sir at his name!” cried Lizzie, glowing up suddenly. “Eh, wouldna we a’ be proud! You might weary whiles, but the Captain would never forget you, nor be parted in his heart, if he was ten thousand miles away.” “You strange little witch,” said I, crying, with the strangest feeling of comfort, “you say the very words that come into my heart!” The creature gave me a bright affectionate look, with tears in her brown eyes. “And please can I take baby out for a walk?” she said, immediately falling back into her own department, with her little bob of a curtsey. “I’ll gang before the windows to let you see how careful I am. It’s the bonniest morning ever was. Eh, mem, if you’re pleased, I’ll ay see the sun shining,” cried my nursery-maid.