remain with him till the
same time on Saturday, which was a holiday with both. One Friday,
just after he was gone, the temptation seized Mrs. Sclater to follow
him, and, paying the lads an unexpected visit, see what they were
about.

It was a bright cold afternoon; and in fur tippet and muff, amidst
the snow that lay everywhere on roofs and window-sills and
pavements, and the wind that blew cold as it blows in few places
besides, she looked, with her bright colour and shining eyes, like
life itself laughing at death. But not many of those she met
carried the like victory in their countenances, for the cold was
bitter. As she approached the Widdiehill, she reflected that she
had followed Gibbie so quickly, and walked so fast, that the boys
could hardly have had time to settle to anything, and resolved
therefore to make a little round and spend a few more minutes upon
the way. But as, through a neighbouring street, she was again
approaching the Widdiehill, she caught sight of something which, as
she was passing a certain shop, that of a baker known to her as one
of her husband's parishioners, made her stop and look in through the
glass which formed the upper half of the door. There she saw
Gibbie, seated on the counter, dangling his legs, eating a penny
loaf, and looking as comfortable as possible.--"So soon after
luncheon, too!" said Mrs. Sclater to herself with indignation,
reading through the spectacles of her anger a reflection on her
housekeeping. But a second look revealed, as she had dreaded, far
weightier cause for displeasure: a very pretty girl stood behind the
counter, with whose company Gibbie was evidently much pleased. She
was fair of hue, with eyes of gray and green, and red lips whose
smile showed teeth whiter than the whitest of flour. At the moment
she was laughing merrily, and talking gaily to Gibbie. Clearly they
were on the best of terms, and the boy's bright countenance,
laughter, and eager motions, were making full response to the girl's
words.

Gibbie had been in the shop two or three times before, but this was
the first time he had seen his old friend, Mysie, of the amethyst
ear-ring. And now one of them had reminded the other of that
episode in which their histories had run together; from that Mysie
had gone on to other reminiscences of her childhood in which wee
Gibbie bore a part, and he had, as well as he could, replied with
others, of his, in which she was concerned. Mysie wa