I've got scones just newly bakit, an' I'll mak ye a cup o' fine
coffee. Come awa."

"Dear old Lisbeth," cried Marjory, "I would kiss you if you weren't so
floury. But I'm really quite happy, except that I wanted to see Uncle
George to tell him something."

"Weel, if yon's the way ye look when ye're quite happy, I wunner how
ye'll look when ye're quite meeserable. Havers," said the old woman
contemptuously, "_somebuddy's_ been tormentin' ye. Come awa."

The good cheer which Lisbeth provided was much appreciated by Marjory,
who did ample justice to the scones and cookies. She had been without
food for several hours, and was really quite hungry now that she had got
over the worst of her trouble. She listened to Lisbeth's cheerful
chatter as she bustled about the room, encouraging her "bairn" to try a
piece of this, a "wee bit scrappie" of that, till Marjory told her that
she simply couldn't eat any more.

"I'm going out to say good-night to Peter, and to give Silky his supper,
and then I'm going to bed," she announced.

"Peter, indeed!" said the old woman wrathfully. "It's little I've seen
o' him the day. Mony's the wee bit job I've wanted him to dae; but na,
na, no the day, he must be lookin' after the vine, he says." And Lisbeth
tossed her head.

"Well, you know, Peter isn't as young as he once was, and when he has to
climb up the steps to reach the top bits of the vine, it takes him a
long time," said Marjory, with a view to calming the old woman's wrath.

Lisbeth flounced round. "Don't you go for to say my Peter's slow at his
work. It's little ye ken how hard he's at it, nicht an' day, slavin' for
you an' the doctor, miss; and he's nane sae auld neither, an' ye needna
be ca'in' him an auld rheumaticky body that canna climb a lether."

"O Lisbeth, I _didn't_," reproachfully.

"You did so."

"I did nothing of the kind; I tried to make excuses for him because you
were so cross with him."

"_Me_ cross! Me cross wi' Peter!" ejaculated Lisbeth. "Me that's never
been cross wi' my man in a lifetime o' years! What next?"

"Just that you're a dear, funny old thing, and I'm going to bed."

"Ye're a peart-mouthed lassie, that's what ye are. Ye'd best get awa to
yer bed."

It was always thus with Lisbeth and Peter. Did any one cast the
slightest shadow of blame on either, the other was up in arms at once;
and though each might blame the other for some omission or commission,
as soon as any third person agreed in l