pression; but when you look at Katie Stewart, | threaded her you can understand the admiration of Lady happily unconscious of it all. Anne. Only a little taller is that staid sister Isabell, who sits knitting a great blue woollen stocking by Katie's side. Isabell is twelve, and her hair has grown a little darker, and she herself looks womanly, as she sits and knits with painful industry counting the loops as she turns the heel, and pausing now and then to calculate how much she has to do before she may escape from her task. The stocking is for her father; he has an immense heel, Isabell thinks secretly, as she almost wishes that some such process as that severe one adopted by the sisters of Cinderella, could be put in operation with honest John Stewart. But yonder he stands, good man, his ruddy face whitened over, and his fourteen stone of comfortable substance fully needing all the foundation it has to stand upon; so Isabell returns to her knitting with such energy that the sound of her "wires" is audible at the mill-door, and John Stewart, turning round, looks proudly at his bairns, Janet stands on the threshold of the house, peeping out; and Janet by no means looks so well as her sisters. She has a heavier, darker face, a thick, ungainly figure, and looks anything but good-humored. They are all dressed in a very primitive style, in home-made linen, with broad blue and white stripes; and their frocks are made in much the same form as the modern pinafore. But simple as its material is, Janet has the skirt of her dress folded up, and secured round her waist-" kilted," as she calls it-exhibiting a considerable stretch of blue woollen petticoat below; for Janet has been employed in the house, by reason of her superior strength, assisting her mother, and the stout maid-servant within. Over Katie's red lip come little gushes of song, as she bends over the daisies in her lap, and threads them. The child does not know that she is singing; but the happy little voice runs on unconsciously, with quick breaks and interruptions like Just they 're bonnie," said little Katie. They 're bonnie!" Isabell received the excuse with as much contempt as Lady Anne's attendant had just done. 66 "Eh, Bell, woman!-eh, Katie!" exclaimed Janet, descending from the garden paling with a great leap, there's wee Lady Anne sitting on the burnside, and there 's Nelly speaking to my father. She's wanting something; for, look at him, how he's pointing here. Eh, Bell, what will 't be ?" "Weel, Nelly, gang in-by, and ask the wife," said the miller; "it's no in my hands. I never meddle wi' the bairns." "The bairns she 's wanting some of us," cried Janet. Isabell's stocking dropped on her knee, and they watched Nelly into the house; but little Katie gowans, and sang her song, and was By and by, Mrs. Stewart herself appeared at the door. She was a little fair-haired woman, rather stout now-a-days, but a beauty once; and with a pretty short-gown, held in round her still neat waist by a clean linen apron, and her animated face, looked yet exceedingly well, and vindicated completely her claim to be the fountain-head and original of the beauty of her children. Isabell lifted her stocking, as her mother, followed by Nelly, came briskly towards the green, and began to knit with nervous fingers, making clumsy noises with her wires. Janet stared at the approaching figures stupidly with fixed eyes; while little Katie, pausing at last, suspended her chain of gowans over her round sun-burnt arm, and lifted her sunny eyes with a little wonderment, but no very great concern. "I'm sure it's no because she 's of ony use at hame, that I should scruple to let her away," said Mrs. Stewart, "for she's an idle monkey, never doing a hand's turn from morning till night; but ye see she never hauds hersel in right order, and she would just be a fash at the Castle." At the Castle! Intense grows the gaze of Janet, and there is a glow on the face of the staid Isabell ; but little Katie again unconsciously sings, and looks up with her sunny, wondering, unconcerned eyes into her mother's face. "Nae fear; if she 's no content, Lady Betty will send her hame," said the nurse;" but ye see Lady Anne, she 's never done crying for little Katie Stewart. There is a slight momentary contraction of Isabell's forehead, and then the flush passes from her face, and the wires cease to strike each other spasmodically, and she, too, looks up at her mother, interested, but no longer anxious. She is not jealous of the little bright sister-only Isabell yearns and longs for the universal love which Katie does by no means appreciate yet, and cannot well understand how it is that Katie is always the dearest-always the dearest! It is the grandest distinction in the world, the other little mind muses unconsciously, and Isabell submits to be second with a sigh. "Such a like sicht she is, trailing about the burnside a' the hours of the day," exclaimed the mother, surveying Katie's soiled frock with dismay. Hout! Mrs. Stewart," said the patronizing nurse," what needs ye fash about it. Naebody expects to see your little ane put on like the bairns that come about the Castle." Mrs. Stewart drew herself up. "Thank ye for your guid opinion, Nelly; but I'll hae naebody make allowances for my bairn. Gang in to the house this moment, Katie, and get on a clean frock. It's Lady Anne that 's wanting ye, and no a common body; and ye 've forbears and kin of your ain as guid as most folk. Gang in this minute, and get yoursel sorted. Ye 've to gang to the Castle with Lady Anne." Reluctantly Katie rose. "I'm no wanting to gang to the Castle! I'm no heeding about Lady Anne!" and unequivocal one, as the miller well knew. | "Ye'll do what you 're bidden, and that this moment," she said, with a slight stamp of her foot. "Gang in, and Merran will sort ye; and see ye disobey me if ye daur!" your mother's ben in the drawing-room, and she says you 're to stay." But Katie still pouted, and still made a roll of the hem of her apron. "You 're no ill-pleased to stay with me, Katie?" whispered Lady Anne, stealing her arm round her little playmate's neck. Isabell rose and led the little pouting Katie away, with a secret sigh. No one sought or cared for her, as they did for this little petulant spoiled "But I'll never see my mother," said Katie, child; and Isabell, too, was pretty, and kind, and gradually bursting into a little petulant fit of gentle, and had a sort of sad involuntary conscious-tears-nor Bell, nor the burn. I'dinna want to ness of those advantages which still failed to place her on the same platform with the favorite. Dull Janet, who was not pretty, envied little Katie; but Isabell did not envy her. She only sighed, with a blank feeling, that no one loved her, as every one loved her sister. CHAPTER II. "But Lady Betty never wears them, and what 's the use o' a' thae bonnie things?" asked little Katie, after the first burst of admiration was over, and she stood at leisure contemplating the jewels of the Ladies Erskine-not a very brilliant display, for the house of Kellie was anything but rich. "If we had had a king and queen o' our ain, and no thae paughty Germans or even if it werena for that weary union, taking away our name from us—us that never were conquered yet, and wadna be if the haill world joined to do itLady Betty wad wear the braw family diamonds in the queen's presence-cha'mer," said Bauby Rodger, Lady Betty's maid; "but wha's gaun to travel a lang sea-voyage for the sake of a fremd queen and a fremd court? And ye wadna hae ladies gaun glittering about the house wi' a' thae shining things on ilkadays, and naebody to see them. Na, na. Ye're but a wee bairn, Katie Stewart; ye dinna ken." "But I think they 're awfu' grand, Bauby, and I like that muckle ane the best. Do you think the queen has as grand things as thae ?" "Weel, I'll no say for this new queen," said the candid Bauby. She's only come of a wee German family, wi' lands no sae muckle, and naebody would daur to say half as rich and fruitful, as thir Kellie lands in Fife; but for our ain auld queens-didna they gang covered owre frae head to fit with pearls and rubies, and embroideries of gold, and diamonds in their croon as big as my twa Bauby," inquired the little visitor," am I to stay at the Castle?" Ye're up the brae, my woman, was the indirect response. "Nae doubt your father's a very decent man, and ye 're no an ill bairn yoursel, and come of creditable folk; but there's mony a wee Miss, atwaen this and the sea would be blythe to come to Kellie, to be bred up with Lady Anne; and it's naebody but you, Katie Stewart. My certy, ye 're a favored bairn." It seemed that Katie was slightly inclined to dispute this proposition, for she twisted up the hem of her little blue linen apron, and held down her head and pouted-but she made no articulate reply. "Where's little Katie?" cried Lady Anne, entering the room in haste and eagerness which gave some color to her small pale face. 'Katie, 66 stay at the Castle. I want to gang hame." "O, Katie, will ye no stay with me?" cried poor little Lady Anne, tightening her grasp, and joining in the tears. But Katie, stoutly rebellious, struggled out of the grasp of her affectionate friend, and again demanded to go home. 66 66 Hame, indeed! My certy, ye wad get plenty of hame if I had the guiding of ye," said Bauby Rodger. Gang hame!-just let her, Lady Anne to work stockings, and learn the Single Carritch, and sleep three in a bed. She was to have gotten the wee closet wi' the grand wee bed, and red curtains, and to have learned to dance and play the spinnet, and behave hersel, and see the first folk in the land. But let her gang hame. I wadna stop her. She'll never be a lady; she 'll learn to milk the cow, and gather the tatties, and marry a weaver out of Arncreoch !" 46 Katie had been gradually drying her tears. "I'll no marry a weaver," exclaimed the child indignantly, with an angry flush on her face. "I'll no milk cows and work stockings. I will be a lady; and I dinna like ye, Bauby Rodger!" Weel, my woman, I'm no heeding," said Bauby with a laugh; "but though ye dinna like me, ye canna hinder me doing what my lady bids. There's nae use fetching noo; for your face maun be washed, and ye maun gang in to Lady Betty's drawing-room and see your mother." It was by no means an easy achievement, this washing of Katie's face; and the mild Lady Anne looked on in awe and wonder as her wilful playfellow struggled in those great hands of Bauby's, to which she was wont to resign herself as into the hands of a giant--for Bauby was nearly six feet high, and proportionably thick and strong, with immense red hands, and an arm nearly as thick as Katie's waist. At last, with this great arm passed round Katie's neck, securing the pretty head with unceremonious tightness, the good-humored Glumdalca overpowered her struggling charge, and the feat was accomplished. Glowing from the fresh clear water, and with those soft rings of hair a little disordered on her white temples, this little face of Katie's contrasted very strangely with Lady Anne's, as they went together through the great stately gallery to Lady Betty's drawing-room. Lady Anne had the advantage of height, and promised to be tall; while Katie's little figure, plump and round as it already was, gave no indication of ever even reaching the middle stature ;--but the small dark head of the earl's daughter, with its thoughtful serious expression, looked only like the shadow beside the sunshine, in presence of the infant beauty whose hand she held. Neither of them were tastefully dressed— the science was unknown then, so far as regarded children; but the quaint little old-woman garments pleased no less than amused you, when you saw the bright child's face of Katie, while they only added to the gravity and paleness of the quiet Lady Anne. This long, gaunt, dreary gallery-how the little footsteps echo through it! There is a door standing ajar. Who has dared to open the door of the great drawing-room?-but as it is open, quick, little Katie, look in. Only once before has Katie had a glimpse of this magnificent apartment. It looks very cold-sadly dreary and deathlike, especially as you know that that little black speck just appearing at the corner window is the point of the mournful escutcheon put up there, not a very long time ago, when Lady Kellie died; and somehow the room looks, with its dismal, breathless atmosphere, as if solemn assemblies took place in it every night. Look at those couches, with their corners inclined towards each other, as if even now spectral visitants bent over to whisper in each other's ears; and here, beside this great, stiff, high-backed chair, is a little low one, with embroidered covers, looking as if some fair antique lady, in rustling silk and lace, had drawn it close to a stately matron's side, and was talking low and earnestly, craving or receiving counsel. Here some one, with heavy chair drawn apart, has been looking at that portrait. Has been looking!- -one feels with an involuntary thrill, that, leaning back on these velvet cushions, some presence to whom the fair Erskine, whose pictured face he contemplates on the wall, was dear in the old times, may be looking now, though we see him not; and the fair Erskine perchance leans on his shoulder too, and smiles to see her portrait. Close the door reverently, children, and leave it to the dead. bairns. My man, I am thankful to say, is a de- Very right; no one could possibly object to it," said Lady Betty. "And she's to get to the kirk. Your ladyship's maid could leave her at Arnereoch, and we'll meet her there on the road to Carnbee kirk, Lady Betty. She's at no hand to gang down to Pittenweem to the English chapel. I couldna suffer that." "I will not ask you, Mrs. Stewart," said Lady Betty, gently. happy and keeps in her health, and behaves hersel, I've nae objection to her staying at the Castle." Eh, Mrs. Stewart, I'm glad!" exclaimed Lady 66 Anne. “But ye dinna say a word yoursel, you monkey," said the mother, drawing Katie forward. "Are ye no proud of being asked to stay wi' Lady Anne at the Castle?" "And she 's to get nae questions but the right question book. It's easy bending the minds of bairns, and I canna have her turned to the English In now through this matted passage to a room way, my lady. I couldna do with that; but, of much smaller dimensions, with windows look-granting a' thae conditions, and as lang as she's ing over a fair green country to the far away sca; and this is a living room, cheerful to see after the awe of the great drawing-room. At the side of the great hearth, in which a bright fire was burning, Lady Betty sits in a large arm-chair. She is not much above twenty, but seems to think it necessary that she should look very grave and composed in her capacity of head of the house-feminine head of the house, for Lord Kellie still lives and rules his household. Lady Betty's dress is of dark silk, not the newest, and over it she wears a handkerchief of delicate white muslin, with a narrow embroidered border. A white muslin apron, with corresponding embroideries, covers the front of her dress, which has deep f.lling ruffles of lace at the elbows, and a stiff stomacher which you scarcely can see under those folds of muslin. Over her arms are drawn long black silk gloves without fingers, and she wears a ring or two of some value. Her head is like a tower with its waves of dark hair combed up from the brow, and her stature scarcely needs that addition, for all the Erskines are tall. Little Katie is really awed now, and feels that there is something grand in sheltering under the shadow of Lady Betty's wing. Mrs. Stewart stands before Lady Betty engaged in carnest conversation with her. Not because Mrs. Stewart is humble, and chooses this attitude as the most suitable, but because Mrs. Stewart is earnest, and being in the habit of using the instrument of gesture a good deal, has risen to make it more forcible. One of her hands is lifted up, and she holds out the other, on which now and then she taps with her substantial fingers to emphasize her words. "You see, my lady, we have nae occasion to be indebted to onybody for the upbringing of our Katie made a long pause, though the anxious questioning eyes of Anne were upon her, and her mother's imperative fingers were beginning to tighten on her shoulder; for Katie was wilful, and would neither be coaxed nor coerced. At last her mingled feelings gained utterance slowly. "I would like to be a lady," said Katie, stoutly resisting her mother's endeavor to pull her a step forward; " but I like Bell, and I like the burnside-and you, mother." Well for Katie that she added the last clauseit touched her mother's heart, and interrupted the anathema which she was about to launch at the unoffending burn. "Bell will be better without ye-ye did nothing but keep her idle; and the burnside winna rin away-ye can come and see it and me, Katie. We'll miss ye at hame, for a' the little mischief ye are." There was a slight quaver in Mrs. Stewart's voice; but now Lady Betty rose, with that magnificent rustling sound which to Katie seemed so grand and awful, to offer, with her own hand, a very little glass of wine. In a corner near one of the windows, at an elaborately-carved escritoire, sat another young lady, so very silent that it was some time before you became aware of her presence. Materials for some of the "fancy" works of the time lay on a little table beside her, but at present Lady Janet was writing, painfully copying some measured paragraphs out of one manuscript-book into another. Lady Betty, the young head and ruler of the house, was super-careful in "doing her duty" to her sisters; so Janet, now too old for writing copies, conscientiously spent an hour every day, under Lady Betty's own superintendence, in copying medicinal recipes to improve her hand. One end of the room was filled with a great book-case of carved oak. On the other side stood a spinnet with fragile legs and ornaments of ivory. The middle of the apartment was carpeted, but round the sides you still saw the beautifully clear waxed floor, in which the light glimmered and unwary walkers slid. Great window-seats, with heavy soft cushions covered with dark velvet, lined the three windows at the other end, and an elaborate embroidered screen stood in the corner beside Lady Janet's escritoire. The walls were wainscoted, polished and glimmering like the floor, and some family portraits darkened rather than enlivened the soubre coloring of the room. But still it was a very grand room, and little Katie Stewart trembled, even when bidden, to draw that tremendous lumbering velvet footstool, which looked like a family-coach, to the fireside, and to sit down on it, with her pretty head almost touching Lady Betty's knee. room. CHAPTER III. round and white as Anne's are angular, and look all the better for want of the long black lace gloves which her friend wears. It is a very elaborate piece of embroidery this, over which Lady Anne bends, and has been the burden and oppression of four or five years bygone, for Lady Betty, who has had her full share in spoiling Katie Stewart, rigidly "does her duty" to her own young sister and Anne has been forced to do her duty, and her embroidery too, many a fair hour, while Katie did little more than idle by her side. But now hold up higher still, that it may catch the receding, fainter-shining light, this precious quarto, little Katie. Not very many books are to be had in Kellie Castle which the young ladies much appreciate all the dearer is this Gentle Shepherd; and Lady Anne's embroidery goes on cheerfully as the sweet little voice at her side, with a considerable fragrance of Fife in its accent, reads aloud to her the kindly old-fashioned obso lete book. It was not old-fashioned then ; for Lady Betty's own portrait, newly painted, represents her in the guise of a shepherdess, and little Katie sings songs about crooks and reeds, and Amintas and Chloes who "tend a few sheep," and the sentiment of the time sees poetry only in Arcadia. So the two girls read their Allan Ramsay, and fancy there never was a story like the Gentle Shepherd. Now it darkens, and higher and higher little Katie holds her book; but that daguerreotype on the floor of the bright window-panes, and strong marked bars of their frame, fades and grows faint; and now Lady Anne not unwillingly draws her needle for the last time through the canvass, and little Katie elevates herself on tiptoe, and contracts her sunny brows with earnest gazing on the great dim page. Softly steps the Lady Anne from her high seat-softly, lest she should interrupt the reader, stirs the slumbering fire, till half-a-dozen dancing flames leap up and fill the room with ruddy, wavering light. So linger no longer to catch that dubious ray from the window, little Katie, but, with one light bound, throw yourself by the side of this bright hearth, and slant your great Allan Ramsay in the close embrace of your soft arms; while the good Lady Anne draws a low chair to the other side of the fire, and, clasping her hands in her lap, peacefully listens, and looks at the reader and the book. In the west room, which opens off this long dim gallery, Lady Anne Erskine sits busied with some embroidery. This apartment, too, is wainscoted, and has a slippery waxed floor, only partially carpeted, and the window is high up in the wall, and gives a singular prison-like aspect to the The light slants full on the dark head of Lady Anne, as she bends it very slightly over the embroidery frame, which has been raised so high that she may have light enough to work without much stooping. Quite in shadow lies this space under the window; but, near the middle of the room, the sunshine, streaming in from the western sky, makes a strong daguerreotype of the heavy massive frame and little panes of the casement. In this shady place stands Katie Stewart, holding a book high up in both her hands to reach the light. She is fourteen now, and as tall as she will ever be, which is not saying much; but those blue sunny eyes, earnestly lifted to the elevated book, are as exuberant in light and mirth as ever, and You need no curtain for that high window-and are, indeed, such overflowing, dancing eyes as now the strong bars of the casement mark themone seldom sees in any other than an Irish face. selves out against the clear frosty blue of the March Her hair has grown a little longer, and is no more sky, and stars begin to shine in the panes. A permitted to stray about her white brow in golden strange aspect the room has with those dark glimrings, but is shed behind her ears, and put in ig-mering walls, and this uncurtained window. Deep noble thraldom. And, with all its infant beauty undiminished, the face has not lost the petulant, wilful expression of its earlier childhood-the lips pout sometimes still, the soft forehead contracts but tall, awkward, good Lady Anne looks down from her high seat upon little Katie, and watches the pretty changeful features with the quick observation of love. The dress of both is considerably improved, for Katie now wears a fine woollen stuff called crape, and Lady Anne's gown is silk. With a point before and a point behind, the dresses fit closely round the waist, and the sleeves are short, and terminate at the elbow with a cuff of fine snow-white linen. Lean and unhandsome are the arms of the quick-growing tall Lady Anne; but Katie's are as gloomy corners shadow it all round, into which the fire sends fitful gleams, invading the darkness; and the centre of the room, between the hearth and the opposite wall, is ruddy and bright. Lady Anne, with her thin long arms crossed on her knee, sits almost motionless, reclining on her highbacked chair, and looking at Katie; while Katie, with one hand held up to shield her flushed face, embraces Allan Ramsay closely with the other, and reads. Neither of them, were they not absorbed in this wonderful book, would like to sit in the dark room alone with those mysterious shadowy corners, and that glimmering door slightly swaying to and fro with the draught from the windy gallery. But they are not here, these two girls; they are out among the summer glens and fields, beside the fragrant burnside with Peggie, or on the hill with the Gentle Shepherd. But there is a heavy foot in the passage, pacing along towards the west room, and immediately the glimmering door is thrown open, and with a resounding step enters Bauby Rodger. 66 "Save us are ye a' in the dark, my lady?" exclaimed Bauby; never dune yet wi' that weary book; but I'll tell ye something to rouse ye, Lady Anne. I've laid out Lady Betty's wedding gown in the state cham'er, and it 's the grandest-looking thing ever ye saw. Lady Betty hersel is in the drawing-room wi' my lord. If ye want to see 't afore it's on, ye maun gang now." Lady Anne was docile, and rose at once. "Come, Katie," she said, holding out her hand as Bauby proceeded to light the lamp. But Katie contracted her brows, and clung to her book. "I want to see about Peggie. Never mind Lady Betty's gown; we'll see it the morn, Lady Anne." "Do what you're bidden, Miss Katie," advised Bauby Rodger in an imperative_tone. "What I'm bidden! I'm no Lady Anne's maid like you," retorted Katie. 66 Nobody means that; never mind Bauby," said Lady Anne entreatingly. "I would do anything you asked me, Katie; will you come now for me?" Again the sunny brows contracted-the little obstinate hand held fast by the book-and then Katie suddenly sprang to her feet. "I'll do what you want me, Lady Anne-I'll aye do what you want me-for you never refuse me. The lamp was lighted by this time, and fully revealed Katie's flushed face to the scrutiny of Bauby Rodger. 66 Oh, Miss Katie, the like o' that!" exclaimed the careful guardian; "such a face wi' sitting on the fire! And what would Lady Betty say to me, think ye, if she saw it, for letting ye get sae muckle 'your ain way?" Katie made no answer; she only pulled, half in mirth, half in anger, a lock of very red hair which had escaped from under Bauby's close cap, and then, taking Lady Anne's hand, hurried her away at quite an undignified pace, singing as she went, "To daunton me, to daunton me,' in defiance. "Ane canna be angry at that bairn," said Bauby to herself, as she bundled up the stray tress unceremoniously under her cap; she has mair spunk in her little finger than Lady Anne has in a' her buik, and she's a mischievous ill-deedy thing; but yet a body canna but like the little ane. Pity them that have the guiding o' her when she comes to years, for discreet years she 'll never Whereupon Bauby, to console herself, caught up the distant music which she heard passing through the long gallery; and being a desperate Jacobite, and traitor to the established government, sang with energy the concluding verse To see King James at Edinburgh cross Oh that is what maist would wanton me ! In the chamber of state a lamp was burning, which revealed Lady Betty's wedding gown, radiant in its rich stiff folds, spread at full length upon the bed for the inspection of the new comers. But at the foot of the bed, leaning upon the heavy massy pillar which supported the faded splendor of its canopy, stood a figure very unlike the dress. It was Lady Janet Erskine, now a tall, pale, rather graceful young woman of two-and-twenty-of a grave, kind temper, whose quietness hid very deep feelings. Lady Janet's arms were clasped about the pillar on which she leaned, and her slight figure shook with convulsive sobs. As the girls entered, she hurriedly untwined her arms, and turned away, but not before the quick observant Katie had seen her eyes red with weeping, and discovered the uncontrollable emotions, which could scarcely be coerced into absolute silence, even for the moment which sufficed her to hasten from the room. “Eh, Katie, is it not bonnie?" said Lady Anne. Katie replied not, for her impatient, curious, petulant mind burned to investigate the mystery; and the sympathies of her quick and vivid nature were easily roused. Katie did not care now for the wedding gown; the sad face of Lady Janet was more interesting than Lady Betty's beautiful dress. But a very beautiful dress it was. Rich silk, so thick and strong that, according to the vernacular description, it could "stand it 's lane;" and of a delicate color, just bright and fresh enough to contrast prettily with the elaborate white satin petticoat which appeared under the open robe in front. At the elbows were deep graceful falls of rich lace; but Katie scarcely could realize the possibility of the grave Lady Betty appearing in a costume so magnificent. She was to appear in it, however, no later than to-morrow; for to-morrow the wise young head of the household was to go away, and to be known no more as Lady Betty Erskine, but as Elizabeth, Lady Colville. The intimation of this approaching change had been a great shock to all in Kellie; but now, in the excitement of its completion, the family forgot for the moment how great their loss was to be. "And to-morrow, Katie, is Lordie's birthday," said Lady Anne, as they returned to the west room. On the low chair which Lady Anne had left by the fireside, the capacious seat of which contained the whole of his small person, feet and all, reposed a child, with hair artificially curled round his face, and a little mannish formal suit, in the elaborate fashion of the time. "The morn 's my birthday," echoed the little fellow. "Mamma's to gie me grand cakes, and I'm to wear a braw coat and a sword, and to be Lord Colville's best man; for Lord Colville will be my uncle, Katie, when he marries Auntie Betty.' "Whisht, Lordie, you 're no to speak so loud," said Katie Stewart. "What way am I no to speak so loud? Mamma never says that just Auntie Anne and Auntie Janet; but I like you, Katie, because you 're bonnie." "And Bauby says you 're to marry her, Lordie, when you grow a man," said Lady Anne. 66 Ay, but mamma says no; for she says Katie's no a grand lady, and I'm to marry naebody but a grand lady; but I like Katie best for all that." "I wouldna marry you," retorted the saucy Katie; "for I'll be a big woman, Lordie, when you 're only a bairn." Bauby says you'll never be big. If you were as old as Auntie Betty, you would aye be wee," said the little heir. |