n, and always potatoes and some other
vegetables; but milk and oatmeal, prepared in various ways, was the
principal food for the bairns of the manse, and for all other bairns as
well.

Were they to be commiserated, the lads and lassies, who in manse and
farmhouse and cottage had to content themselves with such simple,
unvarying fare? They did not think so, for except in books, they knew
nothing of any other way of life. I do not think so, because I have
seen other ways and their results. Besides, luxury is a comparative
term, like wealth, or a competence; and the occasional slice of
loaf-bread, with jelly or even treacle on it, probably gave greater
satisfaction to the children of that country, and that time, than the
unlimited indulgence in cakes and pastry, or creams and ices can give to
the experienced young people of the present day, in some other
countries, who, taking the usual comprehensive survey of the luxuries
prepared for the frequenters of city hotels or watering-places, are
sometimes obliged to confess themselves "disappointed in the fare!"

One thing is sure, plain food made strong men and women of most of them;
and no lingering dyspepsia of childhood spoiled the pleasure of those of
them who won their way to the right to live as they pleased in
after-life.

During Allison's reign in the manse kitchen, the bairns were
exceptionally fortunate in their daily fare. For though she seemed to
go about in a maze, like the man in the ballad, as Robin said, "whose
thoughts were other-where," she never burned the porridge, nor singed
the broth, nor put off the weekly baking of "cakes," till they were
obliged to content themselves, now and then, with less than the usual
portion.

It was wonderful how well the work was done, considering how little her
heart seemed to be in the doing of it, her mistress sometimes thought.
She would have been better pleased had an opening been left now and then
for the "putting in mind," which had been necessary sometimes, even in
the case of the much-valued Kirstin. She would have liked to see
whether a sharp word or two would have moved the silent Allison for a
moment out of the dull, mechanical performance of her duty.

Praise did not do it, and she had been lavish of praise at first.
Allison heard it, as she heard all else, without heeding, as though
doing well were a matter of course, needing no words about it. She did
not respond, by ever so little, to her mistress' ki