him was a shock of sandy hair, two eyes tight shut, and a
freckled nose half buried in the bed-clothes.

"Wake up, you lazy laddie," she called out to him, "or when I get
my clothes on I'll waken you with a wet cloth! Here's the sun
looking in at the windows to shame you, and Father already gone
to the milking."

Jock opened one sleepy blue eye.

"Leave us alone, now, Jeanie," he wheedled. "I was just having a
sonsie wee bit of a dream. Let me finish, and syne I'll tell you
all about it."

"Indeed, and you'll do nothing of the kind" retorted Jean, with
spirit. "Up with you, mannie, or I'll be dressed before you, and
I ken very well you'd not like to be beaten by a lassie, and her
your own sister, too."

Jock cuddled down farther into the blankets without answering,
and Jean began putting on her clothes. It seemed but a moment
before she slid to the floor, rolled her sleeves high above a
pair of sturdy elbows, and went to finish her toilet at the
basin. There she washed her face and combed her hair, while Jock,
cautiously opening one eye again, observed her from his safe
retreat. He watched her part her hair, wet it, plaster it
severely back from her brow, and tie it firmly in place with a
piece of black ribbon. Jock could read Jean's face like print,
and in this stern toilet he foresaw a day of unrelenting house-
cleaning.