“Ow, I didna want nane. Hoot! I’m forgettin’! Aggie gied me a quarter o’ breid as I cam by, or rather as I cam awa’, efter giein’ her a han’ wi’ her algebra.” “What ca’ ye that for a lass bairn to be takin’ up her time wi’! I never h’ard o’ sic a thing! What’s the natur’ o’ ’t, Cosmo?” He tried to give her some far-off idea of the sort of thing algebra was, but apparently without success, for she cried at length, “Na, sirs! I hae h’ard o’ cairts, an’ bogles, an’ witchcraft, an’ astronomy, but sic a thing as this ye bring me noo, I never did hear tell o’! What can the warl’ be comin’ till!--An’ dis the father o’ ye, laddie, ken what ye spen’ yer midnicht hoors gangin’ teachin’ to the lass-bairns o’ the country roon’?” She was interrupted by the entrance of the laird, and they sat down to breakfast. The grandmother within the last year had begun to take hers in her own room. Grizzie was full of anxiety to know what the laird would say to the discovery she had just made, but she dared not hazard allusion to the _conduct_ of his son, and must therefore be content to lead the conversation in the direction of it, hoping it might naturally appear. So, about the middle of Cosmo’s breakfast, that is, about two minutes after he had attacked his porridge, she approached her design, if not exactly the object she desired, with the remark, “Did ye never hear the auld saw, sir-- Whaur’s neither sun nor mune, Laich things come abune--?” “I ’maist think I have, Grizzie,” answered the laird. “But what gars ye come ower ’t noo?” “I canna but think, sir,” returned Grizzie, “as I lie i’ the mirk, o’ the heap o’ things ’at gang to nae kirk, oot an’ aboot as sharp as a gled, whan the yoong laird is no in his bed--oot wi’ ’s algibbry an’ astronomy, an’ a’ that kin’ o’ thing! ’Deed, sir, it wadna be canny gien they cam to ken o’ ’t.” “Wha come to ken o’ what, Grizzie?” asked the laird with a twinkle in his eye, and a glance at Cosmo, who sat gazing curiously at the old woman. “Them ’at the saw speyks o’, sir,” said Grizzie, answering the first part of the double question, as she placed two boiled eggs before her master. The laird smiled: he was too kind to laugh. Not a few laughed at old Grizzie, but never the laird. “Did _ye_ never hear the auld saw, Grizzie,” he said: “Throu’ the heather an’ how gaed the creepin’ thing, But abune was the waught o’ an angel’s wing--?” “Ay, I hae h’ard it--naegait ’cep’ here i’ this hoose,” answered Grizzie: she would disparage the authority of the saying by a doubt as to its genuineness. “But, sir, ye sud never temp’ providence. Wha kens what may be oot i’ the nicht?” “To _him_, Grizzie, the nicht shineth as the day.”