to hear yer lichtest word!"
answered the cobbler.

Sure enough, he had scarcely finished the sentence, when Doory appeared
at the door.

"Did ye cry, guidman?" she said.

"Na, Doory: I canna say I cried; but I spak, an' ye, as is yer custom,
hearkent til my word!--Here's a believin' lad--I'm thinkin' he maun be
a gentleman, but I'm no sure; it's hard for a cobbler to ken a
gentleman 'at comes til him wantin' shune; but he may be a gentleman
for a' that, an' there's nae hurry to ken. He's welcome to me, gien he
be welcome to you. Can ye gie him a nicht's lodgin'?"

"Weel that! an' wi' a' my hert!" said Doory. "He's welcome to what we
hae."

Turning, she led the way into the house.

CHAPTER VI.

DOORY.

She was a very small, spare woman, in a blue print with little white
spots--straight, not bowed like her husband. Otherwise she seemed at
first exactly like him. But ere the evening was over, Donal saw there
was no featural resemblance between the two faces, and was puzzled to
understand how the two expressions came to be so like: as they sat it
seemed in the silence as if they were the same person thinking in two
shapes and two places.

Following the old woman, Donal ascended a steep and narrow stair, which
soon brought him to a landing where was light, coming mainly through
green leaves, for the window in the little passage was filled with
plants. His guide led him into what seemed to him an enchanting
room--homely enough it was, but luxurious compared to what he had been
accustomed to. He saw white walls and a brown-hued but clean-swept
wooden floor, on which shone a keen-eyed little fire from a low grate.
Two easy chairs, covered with some party-coloured striped stuff, stood
one on each side of the fire. A kettle was singing on the hob. The
white deal-table was set for tea--with a fat brown teapot, and cups of
a gorgeous pattern in bronze, that shone in the firelight like red
gold. In one of the walls was a box-bed.

"I'll lat ye see what accommodation we hae at yer service, sir," said
Doory, "an' gien that'll shuit ye, ye s' be welcome."

So saying, she opened what looked like the door of a cupboard at the
side of the fireplace. It disclosed a neat little parlour, with a
sweet air in it. The floor was sanded, and so much the cleaner than if
it had been carpeted. A small mahogany table, black with age, stood in
the middle. On a side-table covered with a cloth of faded green, lay a
la