come o' me, the Lord kens.'

'What's this o' 't?' interposed a severe but not unmelodious voice,
breaking into the conversation between the two boys; for the parlour
door had opened without Robert's hearing it, and Mrs. Falconer, his
grandmother, had drawn near to the speakers.

'What's this o' 't?' she asked again. 'Wha's that ye're conversin'
wi' at the door, Robert? Gin it be ony decent laddie, tell him to
come in, and no stan' at the door in sic a day 's this.'

As Robert hesitated with his reply, she looked round the open half
of the door, but no sooner saw with whom he was talking than her
tone changed. By this time Betty, wiping her hands in her apron,
had completed the group by taking her stand in the kitchen door.

'Na, na,' said Mrs. Falconer. 'We want nane sic-like here. What
does he want wi' you, Robert? Gie him a piece, Betty, and lat him
gang.--Eh, sirs! the callant hasna a stockin'-fit upo' 'im--and in
sic weather!'

For, before she had finished her speech, the visitor, as if in
terror of her nearer approach, had turned his back, and literally
showed her, if not a clean pair of heels, yet a pair of naked heels
from between the soles and uppers of his shoes: if he had any
stockings at all, they ceased before they reached his ankles.

'What ails him at me?' continued Mrs. Falconer, 'that he rins as gin
I war a boodie? But it's nae wonner he canna bide the sicht o' a
decent body, for he's no used till 't. What does he want wi' you,