and
occasions, the reports which were given of her were curiously alike.
Friendliness, curiosity, condescension--the one had sped no better than
the other. The next-door neighbours to the manse had no more to tell
than the rest. There was no lingering at the kitchen-door, or at the
mouth of the close in the long gloaming, as there used to be in
Kirstin's time.

"Ceevil! ay, if ye can ca' it civeelity. She maistly just says naething
and gaes by as gin she didna see ye," said the weaver's wife.

"For my pairt, I hae nae feast o' sic civeelity," said Mrs Coats from
the other side of the street. "I should like to ken mair aboot her ere
I hae muckle to say to her."

"It winna trouble her though you sae naething," said the weaver. "She's
valued in the manse, that's weel seen."

"Ay, she is that," said his wife. "I never thought they would soon get
one to step so readily into auld Kirstin's shoon. She gets through far
mair than ever Kirstin did in the course of the day, and the hoose is
like a new preen (pin)."

"I daursay. New besoms sweep clean," said Mrs Coats with a sniff.

"There's a differ in besoms, however, be they auld or new," said the
weaver.

"She's the kin' o' lass to please the men it seems. We'll need to keep
a calm sough the lave o' us," said Mrs Coats.

"It's ay safe to keep a calm sough," said the weaver. "Gin she suits
the minister's wife that's the chief thing. The warst we ken o' her yet
is that she's no' heedin' ony o' us, and she micht hae waur fauts."

"That may be. But something must ail a young lass like yon when she is
sae slow to open her lips, and goes by a body--even a young lad, as gin
there was naebody there."

"That's her loss," said the weaver with a laugh.

That she went about "without heeding" was a more serious matter in the
case of the new lass than might at first be supposed. If she had not
lived at the manse, which was so much frequented by all sorts of people,
or if she had been plain, or crooked, or even little, it would have
mattered less that she was so preoccupied and so difficult to approach.

Fewer people, in that case, might have noticed her. As it was, many
eyes were on her when she went down the street with her water-buckets,
or sat in the kirk in a dream. She would have been called a beautiful
woman anywhere. In the street of this dull little town, where men had
eyes as well as in larger places, it was not surprising that she should
be watched a