He rose, and they walked together towards the kitchen. There was nobody there, but they heard steps going to and fro in the room above. The laird made haste, but before he could lay his hand on a vessel, to get for Cosmo the water he so much desired, Grizzie appeared on the stair, descending. She hurried down, and across the floor to Cosmo, and seizing him by the hand, looked him in the face with the anxiety of an angel-hen. Her look said what his father’s voice had said just before--“Are ye a’ there--a’ ’at there used to be?” “Hoo’s gran’mamma?” asked Cosmo. “Ow, duin’ weel eneuch, sir--weirin awa’ bonny. She has naither pang nor knowledge o’ sorrow to tribble her. The Lord grant the sowls o’ ’s a’ sic anither lowsin’!” “Hae ye naething better nor cauld watter to gie ’im a drink o’, Grizzie, wuman?” asked the laird, but in mere despair. “Nae ’cep he wad condescen’ til a grainie meal intil ’t,” returned Grizzie mournfully, and she looked at him again, with an anxious deprecating look now, as if before the heir she was ashamed of the poverty of the house, and dreaded blame. “--But laird,” she resumed, turning to her master, “ye hae surely a drap o’ something i’ yer cellar! Weel I wat ye hae made awa’ wi’ nane o’ ’t yersel!” “Weel, there ye wat wrang, Grizzie, my bonny wuman!” replied the laird, with the flicker of a humourous smile on his wrinkled face, “for I sellt the last bottle oot o’ ’t a month ago to Stronach o’ the distillery. I thoucht it cudna du muckle ill there, for it wadna mak his nose sae reid as his ain whusky. Whaur, think ye, wad the sma’ things ye wantit for my mother hae come frae, gien I hadna happent to hae that property left? We’re weel taen care o’, ye see, Grizzie! That _wad_ hae tried my faith, to hae my mother gang wi’oot things! But he never suffers us to be tried ayont what we’re able to beir; an’ sae lang as my faith hauds the grup, I carena for back nor belly! Cosmo, I can bide better ’at ye sud want. Ye’re mair like my ain nor even my mother, an’ sae we bide it thegither. It maun be ’cause ye’re pairt o’ my Mar’on as weel ’s o’ mysel’. Eh, man! but this o’ faimilies is a won’erfu’ Godlike contrivance! Gien he had taen ony ither w’y o’ makin’ fowk, whaur wad I hae been this day wantin’ you, Cosmo?” While he spoke, Cosmo was drinking the water Grizzie had brought him--with a little meal on the top of it--the same drink he used to give his old mare, now long departed to the place prepared for her, when they were out spending the day together.