thinks
a' kin' o' music 'cep' psalm-singin' comes o' the deevil himsel'. An' I
canna believe that. For aye whan I see onything by ordinar bonnie,
sic like as the mune was last nicht, it aye gars me greit for my brunt
fiddle.'

'Well, you must come to me every day for half-an-hour at least, and I
will give you a lesson on my piano. But you can't learn by that. And my
aunt could never bear to hear you practising. So I'll tell you what you
must do. I have a small piano in my own room. Do you know there is a
door from your house into my room?'

'Ay,' said Robert. 'That hoose was my father's afore your uncle bought
it. My father biggit it.'

'Is it long since your father died?'

'I dinna ken.'

'Where did he die?'

'I dinna ken.'

'Do you remember it?'

'No, mem.'

'Well, if you will come to my room, you shall practise there. I shall be
down-stairs with my aunt. But perhaps I may look up now and then, to see
how you are getting on. I will leave the door unlocked, so that you can
come in when you like. If I don't want you, I will lock the door. You
understand? You mustn't be handling things, you know.'

''Deed, mem, ye may lippen (trust) to me. But I'm jist feared to lat
ye hear me lay a finger upo' the piana, for it's little I cud do wi' my
fiddle, an', for the piana! I'm feart I'll jist scunner (disgust) ye.'

'If you really want to learn, there will be no fear of that,' returned
Miss St. John, guessing at the meaning of the word scunner. 'I don't
think I am doing anything wrong,' she added, half to herself, in a
somewhat doubtful tone.

''Deed no, mem. Ye're jist an angel unawares. For I maist think
sometimes that my grannie 'll drive me wud (mad); for there's naething
to read but guid buiks, an' naething to sing but psalms; an' there's nae
fun aboot the hoose but Betty; an' puir Shargar's nearhan' dementit
wi' 't. An' we maun pray till her whether we will or no. An' there's
no comfort i' the place but plenty to ate; an' that canna be guid for
onybody. She likes flooers, though, an' wad like me to gar them grow;
but I dinna care aboot it: they tak sic a time afore they come to
onything.'

Then Miss St. John inquired about Shargar, and began to feel rather
differently towards the old lady when she had heard the story. But how
she laughed at the tale, and how light-hearted Robert went home, are
neither to be told.

The next Sunday, the first time for many years, Dooble Sanny was at
church with his wife,