’Weel ye s’ud ken what it is,’ said Ailie, who used all the freedom of speech towards her master of an old servant of his family, which, indeed, she was. ’Was I no’ tellin’ ye yestreen it was the day I was to gar ma sister’s husband’s niece—it’s the lass Mysie—come oot ower frae the Wabster’s Close, to see if she wadna do ye for a help tae me aboot the hoose, noo a’m that auld and failed’— ’Oh, the devil take her!’ said Herries, impatiently. ’Of course she’ll do if she suits you. It’s your business, isn’t it?’ ’Na! it’s just no my business!’ retorted the old woman, sourly. ’For when I said I wad like weel to hae a lass, ye hummed and haw’d, and—"the dangers o’ the toon!" quo’ you—to a young lassie wi’ the beaux and sic like. ’Od, I’se gar ye see I’se gotten ane that wull hae nae sic havers. Come ben, Mysie!’ She called to her relative, who had remained, meanwhile, on the landing without, and who now obediently appeared. ’Tak the screen aff ye!’ commanded Lizzie, alluding to the tartan shawl commonly worn about the head and face by the poorer women of that day. Mysie divested herself of this garment, and disclosed to view a countenance certainly destitute of any conspicuous allurement to the aforesaid beaux. She was a very tall and somewhat grenadier-like young woman, with a pale, rather haggard, face, a quick, roving glance, and a general air as of something newly caught and altogether untamed. ’She has the three nieces wi’ her gude man, ma sister,’ continued Lizzie,’ and I’se warrant ye weel I waled the little bonniest o’ the bilin’! Mysie ’ll no be bathered wi’ the lads, I’m thinkin’.’ She contemplated her connection with grim approval, almost pride; but Mysie, who had hitherto listened to the curious encomium of her lack of dangerous charms with a perfectly apathetic indifference, uttered, at the last words, a sudden, odd laugh. Herries looked up sharply, but the naturally rather heavy face had become stolidly grave again, and Mysie, ordered to do so by her relative, proceeded meekly to leave the room. ’I’ve seen her before, somewhere, surely?’ said Herries, thoughtfully, teased by some vague reminiscence. ’Rather a rough diamond, isn’t she, Lizzie?’ ’’Oo—a wee thing, mebbe—ay!’ said Lizzie, cheerfully. ’She’s fresh aff the fields, doon Colinton way, howkin’ tatties ... but she’s takken wi’ a notion for genteel sairvice i’ the toon. ’Od, she’ll get it wi’ me, onyway!’ Thus promising abundant, wholesome occupation for her hopeful _protégée_, Lizzie departed to nether regions, well pleased. Herries felt that he had not cottoned greatly to his new retainer. But the choice of a scullion seemed, for the time being, a matter of such infinitely small importance, that he had presently forgotten Mysie as completely as though she had never existed.