scalded the churn. Meanwhile Jock went out to feed the fowls. By
half past six the oatmeal was on the table and the little family
gathered about it, reverently bowing their heads while the
Shepherd of Glen Easig asked a blessing upon the food.

There was only porridge and milk for breakfast, so it took but a
short time to eat it, and then the real work of the day began.
The Shepherd put on his Kilmarnock bonnet and called Tam, who had
had his breakfast on the hearth, and the two went away to the
hills after the sheep. Jock led the cow to a patch of green turf
near the bottom of the hill, where she could find fresh pasture,
and Jean was left alone in the kitchen of the little gray house.
Ah, you should have seen her then! She washed the dishes and put
them away in the cupboard, she skimmed the milk and put the cream
into the churn, she swept the hearth and shook the blankets out
of doors in the fresh morning air. Then she made the beds, and
when the kitchen was all in order, she "went ben"--that was the
way they spoke of the best room--and dusted that too. There
wasn't really a bit of need of dusting the room, for it was
never, never used except on very important occasions, such as
when the minister called. The little house was five miles from
the village, so the minister did not come often, but Jean kept it
clean all the time just to be on the safe side.

There wasn't so very much work to do in the room after all, for
there was nothing in it but the fireplace, a little table with
the Bible, the Catechism, and a copy of Burns's poems on it, and
three chairs. The kitchen was a different matter: There were the
beds, and they were hard for a small girl to manage, and the
cupboard with its shelves of dishes. There were three stools, and