the master, he dresses like most
people i' the evenin', and the young leddies and gentlemen and Mrs
Constable, they sit down at the table--ah, weel! as them as is
accustomed to respec' their station in life. I was thinkin', miss,
that your purple gown, which I have put away in the big cupboard, might
do for to-night. Ye 're a well-formed woman, miss--out in the back,
out in the front--and I jalouse all your bones are covered. It 'll
look queer your not dressin'--more particular when every one else does.'

'I never heard of anything quite so ridiculous,' said Miss Delacour;
'but as those silly children are going to dress, I suppose I had better
put on the gown which I call my thistle gown. The thistle is the
emblem of Scotland. I suppose you know that, Margaret?'

'No me,' said Margaret. 'It's an ugly, prickly thing, is a thistle.'

'Well, you have learnt something from me to-night. You ought to be
very glad when I instruct you, Margaret.'

'I 'd rather be called Magsie,' returned Margaret.

'I intend to call you just what I please.'

'Very weel, miss; but may I make bold to ask which _is_ the thistle
gown?'

'It is a rich, white silk, patterned over with thistles of the natural
colour of the emblem of Scotland. Open the wardrobe and I shall show
it to you. But you took a liberty when you unpacked my clothes without
asking my permission, Margaret.'

'Leeberty--did I? I thocht ye'd be pleased, bein' an auld leddy, no
less; but catch me doin' it again. Ay, but this thistle gown is gran',
to be sure.'

'Can you dress hair?' inquired Miss Delacour.

'Naething special,' was Magsie's answer. 'Is it a wig ye wear or no?
It looks gey unnatural, sae I tak' it to be a wig; but if it's yer ain
hair, I beg yer humble pardon. There's nae harm dune in makin' the
remark.'

'You are a very impertinent girl; but as my dress happens to fasten
behind, and the people in this house are all foolish, I suppose I had
better get you to help me. No, my hair is my own. You must make it
look as well as you can. Do you understand back-combing?'

'Lawk a mercy, ma'am! I never heard tell o' such a thing; and speakin'
o' my master and his family as fules is beyond a'. However, Miss
Jasmine, the darlin', she comes to me and she says in her coaxin' way,
"Mak' the auld leddy comfy, Magsie;" and I 'd risk mony a danger to
please Miss Jasmine.'

'There isn't any Miss Jasmine. Her name is Lucy.'

'Ah, weel, ma'am, ca' th