"Ye'll tak' as guid care o't as the ither yin ye fand. Ye can pit
them baith thegither."

Winsome took a step towards her as if with some purpose of
indignant chastisement. But the red head and twinkling eyes of
mischief vanished, and Winsome stood with the paper in her hand.
Just as she had begun to smooth out the crinkles produced by the
hands of Manse Bell who could not read it, Saunders who would not,
and Meg Kissock who had not time to read it, the head of the last
named was once more projected into the room, looking round the
edge of the rose-papered door.

"Ye'll mak' a braw mistress o' the manse, Mistress--Ralph--
Peden!" she said, nodding her head after each proper name.





CHAPTER X.

THE LOVE-SONG OF THE MAVIS.


Winsome stamped her little foot in real anger now, and crumpling
the paper in her hand she threw it indignantly on the floor. She
was about to say something to Meg, but that erratic and privileged
domestic was in her own room by this time at the top of the house,
with the door barred.