"I'll no lang be a burden to onybody," she said to herself. "It should
sune be wearing to a heid now. But I thought of something the day John
gaed away; ay, I thought of something," she said vaguely. "Janet, what
was it I was thinking of?"

"I dinna ken," whispered Janet.

"I was thinking of something," her mother mused. Her voice all through
was a far-off voice, remote from understanding. "Yes, I remember. Ye're
young, Jenny, and you learned the dressmaking; do ye think ye could sew,
or something, to keep a bit garret owre my heid till I dee? Ay, it was
that I was thinking of; though it doesna matter much now--eh, Jenny?
I'll no bother you for verra lang. But I'll no gang on the parish," she
said in a passionless voice, "I'll no gang on the parish. I'm Miss
Richmond o' Tenshillingland."

She had no interest in her own suggestion. It was an idea that had
flitted through her mind before, which came back to her now in feeble
recollection. She seemed not to wait for an answer, to have forgotten
what she said.

"O mother," cried Janet, "there's a curse on us all! I would work my
fingers raw for ye if I could, but I canna," she screamed, "I canna, I
canna! My lungs are bye wi't. On Tuesday in Skeighan the doctor telled
me I would soon be deid; he didna say't, but fine I saw what he was
hinting. He advised me to gang to Ventnor in the Isle o' Wight," she
added wanly; "as if I could gang to the Isle of Wight. I cam hame
trembling, and wanted to tell ye; but when I cam in ye were ta'en up wi'
John, and, 'O lassie,' said you, 'dinna bother me wi' your complaints
enow.' I was hurt at that, and 'Well, well,' I thocht, 'if she doesna
want to hear, I'll no tell her.' I was huffed at ye. And then my faither
came in, and ye ken what happened. I hadna the heart to speak o't after
that; I didna seem to care. I ken what it is to nurse daith in my breist
wi' pride, too, mother," she went on. "Ye never cared verra much for me;
it was John was your favourite. I used to be angry because you neglected
my illness, and I never telled you how heavily I hoasted blood. 'She'll
be sorry for this when I'm deid,' I used to think; and I hoped you would
be. I had a kind of pride in saying nothing. But, O mother, I didna ken
_you_ were just the same; I didna ken _you_ were just the same." She
looked. Her mother was not listening.

Suddenly Mrs. Gourlay screamed with wild laughter, and, laughing, eyed
with mirthless merriment the look of horror