a cup of tea in a house that had a servant in it. He boldly rang
the bell, and the willing Jean answered it so promptly (in a rush
and jump) that Margaret was as much startled as Aladdin the first
time he rubbed his lamp.

Manse servants of the most admired kind move softly, as if
constant contact with a minister were goloshes to them; but Jean
was new and raw, only having got her place because her father
might be an elder any day. She had already conceived a romantic
affection for her master; but to say "sir" to him-as she thirsted
to do--would have been as difficult to her as to swallow oysters.
So anxious was she to please that when Gavin rang she fired
herself at the bed-room, but bells were novelties to her as well
as to Margaret, and she cried, excitedly, "What is it?" thinking
the house must be on fire.

"There's a curran folk at the back door," Jean announced later,
"and their respects to you, and would you gie them some water out
o' the well? It has been a drouth this aucht days, and the pumps
is locked. Na," she said, as Gavin made a too liberal offer, "that
would toom the well, and there's jimply enough for oursels. I
should tell you, too, that three o' them is no Auld Lichts."

"Let that make no difference," Gavin said grandly, but Jean
changed his message to: "A bowlful apiece to Auld Lichts; all
other denominations one cupful."

"Ay, ay," said Snecky Hobart, letting down the bucket, "and we'll
include atheists among other denominations." The conversation came
to Gavin and Margaret through the kitchen doorway.