nd that was ten years ago.

Miss Ailie and Miss Kitty, you may remember, were not natives of Thrums.
They had been born and brought up at Redlintie, and on the death of
their parents they had remained there, the gauger having left them all
his money, which was just sufficient to enable them to live like ladies,
if they took tiny Magenta Cottage, and preferred an inexperienced maid.
At first their life was very quiet, the walk from eleven to one for the
good of fragile Miss Kitty's health its outstanding feature. When they
strolled together on the cliffs, Miss Ailie's short thick figure,
straight as an elvint, cut the wind in two, but Miss Kitty was swayed
this way and that, and when she shook her curls at the wind, it blew
them roguishly in her face, and had another shot at them, as soon as
they were put to rights. If the two walked by the shore (where the
younger sometimes bathed her feet, the elder keeping a sharp eye on land
and water), the sea behaved like the wind, dodging Miss Ailie's ankles
and snapping playfully at Miss Kitty's. Thus even the elements could
distinguish between the sisters, who nevertheless had so much in common
that at times Miss Ailie would look into her mirror and sigh to think
that some day Miss Kitty might be like this. How Miss Ailie adored Miss
Kitty! She trembled with pleasure if you said Miss Kitty was pretty, and
she dreamed dreams in which she herself walked as bridesmaid only. And
just as Miss Ailie could be romantic, Miss Kitty, the romantic, could be
prim, and the primness was her own as much as the curls, but Miss Ailie
usually carried it for her, like a cloak in case of rain.

Not often have two sweeter women grown together on one stem. What were
the men of Redlintie about? The sisters never asked each other this
question, but there were times when, apparently without cause, Miss
Ailie hugged Miss Kitty vehemently, as if challenging the world, and
perhaps Miss Kitty understood.

Thus a year or more passed uneventfully, until the one romance of their
lives befell them. It began with the reappearance in Redlintie of
Magerful Tarn, who had come to torment his father into giving him more
money, but, finding he had come too late, did not harass the sisters.
This is perhaps the best thing that can be told of him, and, as if he
knew this, he had often told it himself to Jean Myles, without however
telling her what followed. For something to his advantage did follow,
and it was greatly