Father," said Annas: and as he turned
back, and we drove away, she broke down as I had never imagined Annas
would do.

We slept that night at the inn at Hawick. On the Saturday morning, my
Uncle Drummond left us, and we went on to Carlisle, which we reached
late at night. Here we were to stay with Dr and Mrs Benn, friends of
Father's, who made much of us, and seemed to think themselves quite
honoured in having us: and Sam went off at once on a fresh horse to
Brocklebank, which he hoped to reach by midnight. They would be looking
for him. I charged him with all sorts of messages, which he said grimly
that he would deliver if he recollected them when he got there: and I
gave him a paper for my Aunt Kezia, with a list of things I would have
sent.

On Sunday we went to the Cathedral with our hosts, and spent the day
quietly.

But on Monday morning, what was my astonishment, as I was just going
into the parlour, to hear a familiar voice say--

"Did you leave your eyes at Abbotscliff, my dear?"

"Aunt Kezia!" I cried.

Yes, there stood my Aunt Kezia, in her hood and scarf, looking as if
only an hour had passed since I saw her before. I was glad to see her,
and I ventured to say so.

"Why, child, did you think I was going to send my lamb out into the
wilderness, with never a farewell?"

"But how early you must have had to rise, Aunt Kezia!"

"Mrs Kezia, this is an unlooked-for pleasure," said the Doctor, coming
forward. "I could never have hoped to see you at this hour."

"This hour! Why, 'tis but eight o'clock!" cries my Aunt Kezia. "What
sort of a lig-a-bed do you think me, Doctor?"

"Madam, I think you the flower of creation!" cries he, bowing over her
hand.

"You must have been reading the poets," saith she, "and not to much good
purpose.--Flora, child, you look but white! And is this Miss Annas
Keith, your friend? I am glad to see you, my dear. Don't mind an old
woman's freedom: I call all girls `my dear'."

Annas smiled, and said she was very pleased to feel as though my Aunt
Kezia reckoned her among her friends.

"My friends' friends are mine," saith my Aunt Kezia. "Well, Cary, I
have brought you all the things in your minute, save your purple
lutestring scarf, which I could not find. It was not in the bottom
shelf, as you set down."

"Why, where could I have put it?" said I. "I always keep it on that
shelf."

I was sorry to miss it, because it is my best scarf, and I thought I
sho