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The Lilac Sunbonnet by S. R. (Samuel Rutherford) Crockett
page 54 of 368 (14%)
"It WAS a great day," Walter Skirving muttered, letting his arm
rest on the little square deal table which stood beside him with
his great Bible open upon it--"a great day--aye, Maister Peden's
laddie i' my hoose! He's welcome, he's mair nor welcome."

So saying, he turned his eyes once more on the blue mist that
filled the wide Grannoch Valley, and the bees hummed again in the
honey-scented marshmallows so that all heard them.

"This is my grandmother," said Winsome, who stood quite quiet
behind her chair, swinging the sunbonnet in her hand. From her
flower-set corner the old lady held out her band. With a touch of
his father's old-fashioned courtesy he stooped and kissed it.
Winsome instinctively put her hand quickly behind her as though he
had kissed that. Once such practices have a beginning, who knows
where they may end? She had not expected it of him, though,
curiously, she thought no worse of him for his gallantry.

But the lady of Craig Ronald was obviously greatly pleased.

"The lad has guid bluid in him. That's the minnie [mother] o' him,
nae doot. She was a Gilchrist o' Linwood on Nithsdale. What she
saw in your faither to tak' him I dinna ken ony mair than I ken
hoo it cam' to pass that I am the mistress o' Walter Skirving's
hoose the day.--Come oot ahint my chair, lassie; dinna be lauchin'
ahint folks's backs. D'ye think I'm no mistress o' my ain hoose
yet, for a' that ye are sic a grand hoosekeeper wi' your way o't."

The accusation was wholly gratuitous. Winsome had been grave with
a great gravity. But she came obediently out, and seated herself
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