“Ay! wha kens?” returned the girl with a sigh. “There’s mony ane doobtless wad be ready eneuch wi’ the siller anent what ye hae wantin’ ’t!” “I hae naething but an auld hoose--no sae auld as lat the win’ blaw through ’t, though,” said Cosmo, amused. “But whaur are ye for sae ear’, Miss Elsie?” “I’m for the Muir o’ Warlock, to see my sister, the schuilmaister’s wife. Puir man! he’s been ailin’ ever sin’ the spring. I little thoucht I was to hae sic guid company upo’ the ro’d! Ye hae made an unco differ upo’ my father, Mr. Warlock. I never saw man sae altert. In ae single ook!” She had heard Cosmo say he much preferred good Scotch to would-be English, and therefore spoke with what breadth she could compass. In her head, notwithstanding, she despised everything homely, for she had been to school in the city, where, if she had learned nothing else, she had learned the ambition to _appear_; of _being_ anything she had no notion. She had a loving heart, though--small for her size, but lively. Of what really goes to make a _lady_--the end of her aspiration--she had no more idea than the swearing father of whom, while she loved him, as did all his family, she was not a little ashamed. She was an honest girl too in a manner, and had by nature a fair share of modesty; but now her heart was sadly fluttered, for the week that had wrought such a change on her father, had not been without its effect upon her--witness her talking _vulgar, broad Scotch_! “Your father is very kind to me. So are you all,” said Cosmo. “My father will be grateful to you for being so friendly to me.” “Some wad be gien they daured!” faltered Elspeth. “Was ye content wi’ my getherin’ to ye--to your scythe, I mean, laird?” “Wha could hae been ither, Miss Elsie? Try ’at I wad, I couldna lea’ ye ahin’ me.” “Did ye want to lea’ me ahin’ ye?” rejoined Elsie, with a sidelong look and a blush, which Cosmo never saw. “I wadna seek a better to gether til.--But maybe ye dinna like my han’s!” So far as I can see, the suggestion was entirely irrelevant to the gathering, for what could it matter to the mower what sort of hands the woman had who gathered his swath. But then Miss Elspeth had, if not very pretty, at least very small hands, and smallness was the only merit she knew of in a hand. What Cosmo might have answered, or in what perplexity between truth and unwillingness to hurt she might have landed him before long, I need not speculate, seeing all danger was suddenly swept away by a second voice, addressing Cosmo as unexpectedly as the first.