here--no an easy ane, maybe, to gie satisfaction in, but she's duin'
no that ill."

"Hoot, Anerew! she's duin' jist as well as ony lassie o' her years
could in justice be expeckit," interposed the grandmother. "It's
seldom the Lord 'at sets auld heid upo' yoong shoothers."

The words were hardly spoken when a light foot was heard coming up
the stair.

"--But here she comes to answer for hersel'!" she added cheerily.

The door of the room opened, and a good-looking girl of about
eighteen came in.

"Weel, yoong Eppy, hoo 's a' wi' ye?" said the old man.

The grandmother's name was Elspeth, the grand-daughter's had
therefore always the prefix.

"Brawly, thank ye, gran'father," she answered. "Hoo 's a' wi'
yersel'?"

"Ow, weel cobblet!" he replied.

"Sit ye doon," said the grandmother, "by the spark o' fire; the
nicht 's some airy like."

"Na, grannie, I want nae fire," said the girl. "I hae run a' the
ro'd to get a glimp' o' ye 'afore the week was oot."