, Nancy. There's no harm in the like of that. Her feyther
came from Aberdeen folk, and it's weel recognized that Aberdeen folk
look at both sides of a penny."

"Christine is a clever lass, and good likewise, we were all saying
that, a while ago."

"Weel, some folk, out of bad taste, or a natural want of good sense,
may think different; but there--that's enough on the subject of
Christine. Her feyther is gey touchy anent Christine, and it will be
as weel to let that subject alone."

So, day after day, Margot sat in a chair at her daughter's side, and
Christine filled the big orders as her mother instructed her. And they
were well filled, in good time, and the outcome was beyond all
expectation. Yet Christine looked sadly at the money, and Margot
turned her head away, to hide the unbidden tears in her eyes, as she
said:

"It's all yours, lassie. I'll not touch a farthing of it. You have
fairly won it. It will happen help Neil's deficiencies. Oh, my dear
lassie! Mither has done her last kippering! I feel it."

"Then I'll kipper for you, Mither, as long as we both live. The hill
is now o'er much for you--and the noisy women, and skirling bairns!
Christine will go to Mother's shed, and Mother will bide at hame, and
red up the house, and have a cup of tea ready for hungry folk, as they
come weary hame."

And Margot let it go at that, but she was as she said, "dowie and
despondent." Ruleson begged her to go with him to Edinburgh, and get
the advice of a good physician, but Margot would not listen to any
entreaty.

"I'll no do any such thing," she answered. "Not likely! The Domine can
gie the pain a setback, and if God wants me here, He'll keep me here,
sick or well, and if He doesna want me here, I'm willing to go where
He does want me." From this position Margot was not movable, and now
that the herring fishing was over, there did not appear to be any
reason for making her restless and unhappy. So she naturally drifted
into that household position, where everyone took care not to tire,
and not to vex, grandmother.

One morning in the early days of October, Christine was sitting
sewing, and Margot was making shortcake. They had been talking of Neil
and wondering where he was.

"I'm thinking it is whole o' a month, since we heard from the lad,"
said Margot.

"I dare say it's mair, Mother; and that letter was from some strange
French seaside place, and he was thinking that they wouldna stay there
very long. He has