corset of
her own for which she had grown too abundant!

So kindly was the eye that could flash fire on an argumentative
Episcopalian parson--and send him over two pounds of butter and a dozen
fresh-laid eggs for his sick wife--that (as I say) even inanimate
objects seemed to respond to her look and conform themselves to the wish
of her finger tips. She had been known to "set" a dyke which had twice
resolved itself into rubbish under the hands of professionals. The
useless rocky patch she had taken as a herb garden blossomed like the
rose, bringing forth all manner of spicy things. For in these days in
Galloway most of the garnishments of the table were grown in the garden
itself, or brought in from the cranberry bogs and the blaeberry banks,
where these fruits grew among a short, crumbly stubble of heather, dry
and elastic as a cushion, and most admirable for resting upon while
eating.

Well, grandmother came in wiping her hands. It seems to me now that I
see her--and, indeed, whenever she does make an entry into the story, I
always feel that I must write yet another page about the dear,
warm-hearted, tumultuous old lady.

She saw the slender lawyer with the brown coat worn shiny, the scratch
wig tied with its black wisp of silk, and the black bag in his hand. He
had been taking a survey of the room, and started round quickly at the
entrance of my grandmother. Then he made a deep bow, and grandmother,
who could be very grand indeed when she liked, bestowed upon him a
curtsey the like of which he had not seen for a long while.

"My name is Poole," he said apologetically. "I presume I have the honour
of speaking to Mistress Mary Lyon, spouse and consort of William Lyon,
tacksman of the Mill of Marnhoul with all its lades, weirs, and
pendicles----"

"If you mean that William Lyon is my man, ye are on the bit so far,"
said my grandmother; "pass on. What else hae ye to say? I dinna suppose
that ye cam' here to ask a sicht o' my marriage lines."

"It is, indeed, a different matter which has brought me thus far," said
the lawyer man, with a certain diffidence, "but I think that perhaps I
ought to wait till--till your husband, in fact----"

"If you are waiting for Weelyum," said Mary Lyon, "ye needna fash. He is
o' the same mind as me--or will be after I have spoken wi' him. Say on!"

"Well, then," the lawyer continued, "it is difficult--but the matter
resolves itself into this. I understand--my firm understands, that