absently turned over the leaves of the note-book, catching
sentences here and there.

"I wonder how old he is?" she said, meditatively; "his coat-tails
looked old, but the legs went too lively for an old man; besides,
he likes maids to be dressed in lilac--" She paused still more
thoughtfully. "Well, we shall see." She bent over and pulled the
milky-stalked, white-seeded head of a dandelion. Taking it between
the finger and thumb of her left hand she looked critically at it
as though it were a glass of wine. "He is tall, and he is fair,
and his age is--"

Here she pouted her pretty lips and blew.

"One--ha, ha!--he was an active infant when he ran from the
blanket-tramping--two, three, four--"

Some tiny feather-headed spikelets disengaged themselves
unwillingly from the round and venerable downpolled dandelion.
They floated lazily up between the tassels of the broom upon the
light breeze.

"Five, six, seven, eight--faith, he was a clean-heeled laddie yon.
Ye couldna see his legs or coat-tails for stour as he gaed roon'
the Far Away Turn."

Winsome was revelling in her broad Scots. She had learned it from
her grandmother.

"Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen--I'll no