When, however, the Factor allowed her only ten skins, her
disappointment was keen, and she ended by getting a shawl. Then she
left the trading room to pay a visit to the Factor's wife, and confide
to her the story of her expectations and of her disappointment so
movingly that she would get a cup of tea, a word of sympathy, and
perhaps even an old petticoat.

In the meantime, Oo-koo-hoo was catching it again. He had forgotten
his daughter; so after more haggling the trader agreed to advance her
ten skins. Her mind had long been made up. She bought a three-point
blanket, a small head shawl, and a piece of cotton print. Then the
grandsons crowded round and grumbled because there was nothing for them.

By this time the trader was beginning to feel that he had done pretty
well for the family already; but he kept up the appearance of bluff
good humour, and asked:

"Well, Oo-koo-hoo, what wad ye be wantin' for the laddies?"

"My grandsons are no bunglers, as you know," said the proud old
grandsire. "They can each kill at least twenty skins' worth of fur."

"Aye, aye!" rejoined the trader. "I shall e'en gi'e them twenty atween
them."

In the goodness of his heart he offered the boys some advice as to what
they should buy: "Ye'll be wantin' to buy traps, I'm jalousin', an'
sure ye'll turn oot to be graun' hunters, Nimrods o' the North that
men'll mak' sangs aboot i' the comin' years." He cautioned them to
choose wisely, because from henceforth they would be personally