"But there's no occasion for that either," replied the farmer. "I'm willin, in consideration o' their services, to gie ye a bit sma cot to live in, and ye'll never want a pickle meal, and a soup o' milk forbye. And for this bonnie lassie, here," he added, and now looking at Margaret, who had grown into a tall and handsome girl, "she micht mak herself useful about my house too, for which, of course, I wad gie her the wages gaun. Ye micht then be a' comfortable aneuch, for a wee, at ony rate." Need we say that the kind offers of Blackadder were readily closed with. We think we need not. The grateful family, the children, by looks of glee and satisfaction, and the mother by broken sentences and tears of joy, acknowledged their deep sense of the obligation proposed to be conferred on them. "And wha kens," said the farmer, on this matter being settled, "an wha kens," he said, smiling; "but this bonny lassie here," laying his hand on Margaret's shoulder, "may sune fa' in wi' a bit canny guidman hereawa, wi' a weel-stocked mailin." "I doot, sir, that's a' settled already," replied the widow, smiling, "although there's but little gear in the case. Margaret, I'm jalousin, has left her heart at the Torwood. There's a certain young lad, a farmer's son there, that I'm thinkin she wadna willingly forget. But want o' warl's gear aften sunders fond hearts." "Better times may come roun, guidwife," replied Mr Blackadder; "an' the lass may get her leman for a'." During this conversation, the subject of it seemed in an agony of maidenly distress. With a face burning with blushes, she vainly attempted, with a series of unconnected interjections, amongst which were several _denials_ of the _fact_, to arrest her mother's communications regarding the secrets of her heart. Finding these efforts ineffectual, the bashful girl retreated behind her mother's chair, and there, concealing herself as much as possible, awaited, in suffering silence, the conclusion of the, to her, most annoying discussion. In less than a week from this period, Widow Grahame was comfortably domiciled in a small cot-house at a little distance from the residence of her benefactor, Blackadder. Here, contented with her humble lot, and grateful to a kind Providence, which had so timeously interposed in her behalf, Margaret Grahame plied her wheel the livelong day, singing as merrily, the while, as the "laverock in the lift." Her boys were giving every satisfaction to their employer, and her daughter was no less successful in pleasing in her department. She was thus in the enjoyment of one of the greatest happinesses of which her condition was susceptible, and she fully appreciated the blessing. It was while matters were in this state with Widow Grahame, and somewhere about two years after she had settled at Kilpatrick, that her eldest son said to her one evening, on returning home after the labours of the day were over:--