th wi' a bit o' oaten cake. We aye keep that i' the hoose, for th'
auld servant-body is geyan bad at the cookin', an' she's sae dour an'
dowie that to speak but till her we daur hardly mint.

In sic divairsions pass the lang simmer days in braid Scotland, but I
canna write mair the nicht, for 'tis the wee sma' hours ayont the twal'.

Like th' auld wife's parrot, 'we dinna speak muckle, but we're deevils
to think,' an' we're aye thinkin' aboot ye. An' noo I maun leave ye to
mak' what ye can oot o' this, for I jalouse it'll pass ye to untaukle
the whole hypothec.

Fair fa' ye a'! Lang may yer lum reek, an' may prosperity attend oor
clan!

Aye your gude frien',

Penelope Hamilton.

"It may be very fine," remarked Salemina judicially, "though I cannot
understand more than half of it."

"That would also be true of Browning," I replied. "Don't you love to see
great ideas looming through a mist of words?"

"The words are misty enough in this case," she said, "and I do wish you
would not tell the world that I paddle in the burn, or 'twine my bree
wi' tasselled broom.' I'm too old to be made ridiculous."

"Nobody will believe it," said Francesca, appearing in the doorway.
"They will know it is only Penelope's havering," and with this
undeserved scoff, she took her mashie and went golfing--not on the
links, on this occasion, but in our microscopic sitting-room. It is
twelve feet square, and holds a tiny piano, desk, centre-table, sofa,
and chairs, but the spot between the fire-place and the table is
Francesca's favourite 'putting-green.' She wishes to become more deadly
in the matter of approaches, and thinks her tee-shots weak; so these two
deficiencies she is trying to make good by home practice in inclement
weather. She turns a tumbler on its side on the floor, and 'putts' the
ball into it, or at it, as the case may be, from the opposite side
of the room. It is excellent discipline, and as the tumblers are
inexpensive the breakage really does not matter. Whenever Miss Grieve
hears the shivering of glass, she murmurs, not without reason, 'It is
not for the knowing what they will be doing next.'

"Penelope, has it ever occurred to you that Elizabeth Ardmore is
seriously interested in Mr. Macdonald?"

Salemina propounded this question to me with the same innocence that a
babe would display in placing a lighted fuse beside a dynamite bomb.

Francesca naturally heard the remark,--although it was addressed to
me,--p