door and a polished brass knocker.

Tacitly the duty of envoy was entrusted to Mr. McCunn. Leaving the
other at the gate, he advanced up the little path lined with quartz
stones, and politely but firmly dropped the brass knocker. He must
have been observed, for ere the noise had ceased the door opened,
and an elderly woman stood before him. She had a sharply-cut face,
the rudiments of a beard, big spectacles on her nose, and an
old-fashioned lace cap on her smooth white hair. A little grim she
looked at first sight, because of her thin lips and roman nose,
but her mild curious eyes corrected the impression and gave the
envoy confidence.

"Good afternoon, mistress," he said, broadening his voice to
something more rustical than his normal Glasgow speech. "Me and my
friend are paying our first visit here, and we're terrible taken up
with the place. We would like to bide the night, but the inn is no'
taking folk. Is there any chance, think you, of a bed here?"

"I'll no tell ye a lee," said the woman. "There's twae guid beds in
the loft. But I dinna tak' lodgers and I dinna want to be bothered
wi' ye. I'm an auld wumman and no' as stoot as I was. Ye'd better
try doun the street. Eppie Home micht tak' ye."

Dickson wore his most ingratiating smile. "But, mistress, Eppie Home's
house is no' yours. We've taken a tremendous fancy to this bit.
Can you no' manage to put up with us for the one night? We're quiet
auld-fashioned folk and we'll no' trouble you much. Just our tea and
maybe an egg to it, and a bowl of porridge in the morning."