indifference as to
whether they should or should not meet at Bourhill, had entirely
convinced Teen that he had no share in that part of Liz's life which she
had elected to keep a sealed book.

'It's quite true that they are engaged,' she replied tranquilly; 'but
maybe he's awa' frae hame. But nane o' them hae been here for a long
time.'

'She disna seem to be much in earnest,' put in Liz flatly. 'I dinna
believe mysel' that she cares a button for ony o' the lot; do you?'

'I dinna ken,' answered Teen truthfully. 'It disna maitter to us,
onyway.'

'Maybe no'. Let's sit doon here a meenit, Teen; the sun's fine an'
warm,' said Liz, and plumped down among the bracken, while Teen stood
still under the jagged branches of an old fir tree, and looked 'her
fill,' as she expressed it, of the lovely world at her feet. It was
still a spring world, clothed in a most delicate and exquisite garb of
green, waiting only for the touch of later summer to give it a deeper
hue. There were many touches of white and pink bloom, showing in
exquisite contrast where the hawthorn and the gean were in flower. Nor
was the ground left with its more sombre hues unrelieved; the blue
hyacinth, the delicate anemone, the cowslip, and the primrose grew
thickly on every bare hillside and in all the little valleys, making the
air heavy with their rich perfume.

And all the fields now made glad the hearts of those who had in faith
dropped their seed into the brown soil, and the whole earth, down to the
sun-kissed edge of the sea, rejoiced with a great joy. Nor was the sea
less lovely, with the silvery sheen of early summertide on its placid
bosom, and the white wings of many boats glistening in the sun.

'It's jist like heaven, Liz,' said the little seamstress, to whom these
things were a great wonder, revealing to her a depth and a meaning in
life of which she had not before dreamed. But to these hidden
lovelinesses of Nature the eyes of Liz were closed; her vision being too
much turned in upon herself, was dimmed to much that would have made her
a happier and a better girl.

'It's bonnie enough, but oh, it gets stale, Teen, efter a wee. If I were
as rich as her I wadna bide here--no' if they paid me to bide!'

'What for no'?'

'Oh, it's that flat. Naething ever happens. Gie me the toon, I say;
there's some life there, onyway.'

'I wadna care if I never saw the toon again,' said Teen gravely, for her
friend's words troubled her.

'Hoo lang d