wore out a suit, and I put their wee breeks and coaties awa'. I
thought they might come in for their ain bairns, and lo and behold!
Allan's little lad is, like as not, to come into his feyther's Sunday
raiment."

"Did you save their shirts and such like?"

"Why wouldn't I? But vera few linen things are left. They were too
easy to wear and tear, to be long-lived, but I fancy I can find a
sleeping gown for the bairn, and maybe a shirt or twa. But stockings
are beyond mention. They got them into unmendable holes, and left them
in the boats, or the fish sheds, and I fairly wore my knitting
needles awa' knitting for lads wha wouldna use their feet ony way but
skin-bare."

So the grandmother went to find what clothes she could for a little
lad of eight years old, and Christine sat down to answer Neil's last
letter. To herself she called it an "overflowing screed." Indeed it
was full of the great Reginald Rath, his fine family, his comfortable
wealth, his sister, Roberta, and her highly respectable house in the
Monteith Row o'erby the Green of Glasgow City. Christine told him in
reply that she was glad he had found a friend so conformable to all
his wishes. She asked him if he had heard lately from Angus Ballister,
and casually mentioned that the Domine had received ten days ago a
letter from the Colonel about the school building, and that Angus had
sent her some bonnie pictures of the city of Rome. She also informed
him that his nephew was coming to Culraine, and that she herself was
going to take the charge of him, and so might not have time to write
as often as she had done.

In the afternoon Faith came from the village to help with the nets
a-mending, and she brought the village gossip with her, and among the
news of all kinds, the date of her own marriage. She was going to wed
the Largo man on Christmas Day, and she had forgotten her loneliness
and melancholy, and laughed and joked pleasantly, as she went over her
plans with Christine. Margot watched her, and listened to her with
great interest, and when at sunset the lassie went down the hill, she
said to Christine: "Wonders never cease. Faith Balcarry was moping
melancholy, she is now as merry as a cricket. She was sick and going
to die, she's now well and going to marry. She had nane to love her,
and nane she loved. Her whole talk now is o' the Largo man, and the
wonderfu' love he has for her, and the untelling love she has for him.
Weel! Weel! I hae learned ane