r an auld umbrell. But they baith trible me sae little,
'at I may jist as weel luik efter them baith. It's auld an' casten
an' bow-ribbit, it's true, but it wad ill become me to drap it
wi'oot a thoucht, whan him 'at could mak haill loaves, said, 'Gether
up the fragments 'at naething be lost.'--Na," she continued, still
looking about her, "I maun jist dee my duty by the auld umbrell;
syne come o' 't 'at likes, I carena."

So saying she walked to the lee side of a rock, and laid the
umbrella close under it, then a few large stones upon it to keep it
down.

I may add, that the same umbrella, recovered, and with two new ribs,
served Janet to the day of her death.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE MAINS.

They reached at length the valley road. The water that ran in the
bottom was the Lorrie. Three days ago it was a lively little
stream, winding and changing within its grassy banks--here resting
silent in a deep pool, there running and singing over its pebbles.
Now it had filled and far overflowed its banks, and was a swift
river. It had not yet, so far up the valley, encroached on the
road; but the torrents on the mountain had already in places much
injured it, and with considerable difficulty they crossed some of
the new-made gullies. When they approached the bridge, however, by
which they must cross the Lorrie to reach the Mains, their worst
trouble lay before them. For the enemy, with whose reinforcements
they had all the time been descending, showed himself ever in
greater strength the farther they advanced; and here the road was
flooded for a long way on both sides of the bridge. There was
therefore a good deal of wading to be done; but the road was an
embankment, there was little current, and in safety at last they
ascended the rising ground on which the farm-building stood. When
they reached the yard, they sent Gibbie to find shelter for Crummie,
and themselves went up to the house.

"The Lord preserve 's!" cried Jean Mavor, with uplifted hands, when
she saw them enter the kitchen.

"He'll dee that, mem," returned Janet, with a smile.

"But what can he dee? Gien ye be droont oot o' the hills, what's to
come o' hiz i' the how? I wad ken that!" said Jean.

"The watter's no up to yer door yet," remarked Janet.

"God forbid!" retorted Jean, as if the very mention of such a state
of things was too dreadful to be polite. "--But, eh, ye're weet!"

"Weet's no the word," said Robert, trying to laugh,