, as she plodded up the
muddy lane, she was hailed cheerfully from the road. The speaker was
Auntie Jinit McKerracher, as she was still called, though correctly
speaking, she had been for some time past Auntie Jinit Martin.
Evidently her life as mistress of the red-brick house, from which she
had just come, had been a success. Auntie Jinit looked every inch a
woman of prosperous independence. Though the low clouds threatened
rain, she wore a very gay and expensive bonnet, adorned with many pink
roses that scarcely rivaled the color of her cheeks. The dress she
held up in both hands, high above her trim gaiter-tops, was of black
satin, much bedecked with heavy beaded trimming. From all appearances
Auntie Jinit had, to use her own phrase, been "up sides" with Jake
Martin, since her second marriage.

"And is yon yersel', Lizzie lass!" she cried heartily. "An' hoo's the
pair bit lamb the day?"

"Eppie? Oh, not much better, Auntie Jinit. I'm afraid sometimes poor
Eppie will never be better."

A sympathetic light shone in Auntie Jinit's bright eyes, and a shrewd,
knowing pair of eyes they were. Not much escaped them, and her visit
to The Dale the day before, coupled with Elizabeth's disappointed
appearance, told her plainly that all was not well between the girl and
her aunt.

"Tuts, lass," she said, "the warm weather 'll be along foreby, an'
she'll pick up. Ah'll send oor Charlie ower wi' a bit jug o' cream
ivery morn, an' it'll mak the pair thing fatten up a wee."

"Thank you, Auntie Jinit," said Elizabeth, the kindness bringing the
tears to her eyes. "You're so good."

Mrs. Martin glanced at her sideways again. She had seen little of
Elizabeth within the last few years, but her regard for the girl had
never changed. She was as proud of her as though she had been her own
daughter. Her eyes rested fondly on the slim, erect figure in the long
gray coat, the smart, blue-gray velvet toque that matched the deep eyes
beneath, and the soft, warm coils of the girl's brown hair. Lizzie was
a lady and no mistake, Mrs. Martin declared to herself, a lady from her
heart out to her clothes; and if that stuck up bit buddy at The Dale,
who thought herself so much above her neighbors, had been worrying the
lass, she, Auntie Jinit, was going to find out about it.

"Ye'll need help in lookin' after her," she said, feeling her way, "an'
Mary's no able to gie it."

"That's just the trouble," said Elizabeth, responding t