"Off and on, juist off and on. Troubled a lot with the boil, of course." (Elizabeth had to think for a minute before she realised this was English for "the bile.") "Many a day, Miss Seton, nothing'll lie." Mrs. Martin made a gesture indicating what happened, and continued: "Mr. Martin often says to me, 'Maggie,' he says 'ye're no' fit to work; let the hoose alane,' he says. Divn't ye, John?" she asked, turning to her husband, who had settled himself by the fire with an evening paper, and receiving a grunt in reply. "But, Miss Seton, there's no' a lazy bone in ma body and I canna see things go. I must be up an' doin': a hoose juist keeps a body at it." "It does," agreed Elizabeth, trying not to see the unmade bed and the sink full of dirty dishes. "An' whit are ye collectin' for the day? Women's Foreign Missions? 'Go ye into all the world.' We canna go oorsel's, but we can send oor money. Where's ma purse?" She went over to the littered dresser and began to turn things over, until she discovered the purse lurking under a bag of buns and a paper containing half a pound of ham. Elizabeth stood up as a hint that the shilling might be forthcoming, but Mrs. Martin liked an audience, so she sat down on a chair and put a hand on each knee. "Mr. Seton said on Sunday we were to give as the Lord had prospered us. Weel, I canna say much aboot that, we're juist aye in the same bit, but as A often tell ma man, Miss Seton, we must a' help each other, for we're a' gaun the same road--mebbe the heathen tae, puir things!" Mr. Martin grunted over his newspaper, and his wife continued: "There's John there--Mr. Martin, A'm meanin'--gits fair riled whiles aboot poalitics. He canna stand Tories by naething, they fair scunner him, but I juist say to him, 'John, ma man,' I says, 'let the Tories alane, for we're a' Homeward Bound.'" Elizabeth stifled a desire to laugh, while Mr. Martin said with great conviction and some irrelevance, "Lyd George is the man." "So he is," said his wife soothingly, "though A whiles think if he wud tak' a bit rest to hissel' it wud be a guid job for us a'." "Well," said Elizabeth, opening her purse in an expectant way, "I must go, or I shall be late for tea." "Here's yer shillun," said Mrs. Martin, rather with the air of presenting a not quite deserved tip. "An' how's wee David? Yon's a rale wee favourite o' mine. Are ye gaun to mak' a minister o' him?" "Buff? Oh, I don't think we quite know what to make of him." Mrs. Martin leaned forward. "Hev ye tried a phrenologist?" she asked earnestly. "No," said Elizabeth, rather startled. "A sister o' mine hed a boy an' she couldna think what to mak' o' him. He had no--no--whit d'ye ca' it?" Elizabeth nodded her comprehension. "Bent?" she suggested. "Aweel, she tuk him to yin o' thae phrenologists, an' he said he wud be either an auctioneer or a chimist, and," she finished triumphantly, "a chimist he wus!" _CHAPTER V_