door, and the trees swaying broad branches
over the roof.

Here we washed ourselves, and Wat set to shaving me and cutting my hair
close, in order that if necessary I might wear a wig. Then we went into
the gardens, where we found the chief gardener of Balmaghie, whose name
was Samuel Irving.

Samuel was a grave man with a very long upper lip, which gave him a sour
and discontented expression, but secretly he was a good man and a great
favourer of the hill-folk. Also he was very upright and well-doing in
the matters of seeds and fruits and perquisites, and greatly in favour
with his master, Mr. Roger McGhie.

So we set out much refreshed, and were going by a path through the
woods, when suddenly who should come upon us at a turn but Kate McGhie.
Wat ran to her to take her hands, but she gave him the go-by with the
single frugal favour of a saucy glance. "Strangers first!" she said, and
so came forward and greeted me.

"You are welcome to Balmaghie, William Gordon," she said. "I would you
came as guest, and not as servitor; but some day I know you shall enter
by the front door."

She glanced round with a questioning air. Wat was standing half turned
away, very haughty in his demeanour.

Kate McGhie looked towards him. She was in truth a comely maid--for one
that is black of favour.

"Now you may come," she said.

He seemed as if he would refuse and turn away. But she looked fixedly at
him, defying him with her eyes to do it, and after a moment's battle of
regards he came slowly towards us.

"Come nearer!" she commanded imperiously.

He came up with his eyes kindling. I think that no less than kissing was
in his mind, and that for a moment he thought that she might permit it.

But suddenly she drew herself proudly away, and her look was disdainful
and no doubt hard to be borne.

"Are these fit manners from a servant?" she said. "They that eat the
meat and sit below the salt, must keep the distance."

Wat's countenance fell in a moment. I never saw one with so many ups and
down in such short space. The allures and whimsies of this young
she-slip made him alternately sulk and brighten like an April day.

"Kate!" he began to say, in the uncertain tone of a petitioner.

"Mistress Katerine McGhie, if you please!" said she, dropping him a
courtly courtesy.

"Have you forgotten quite?" Wat said.

"Ah," she said, "it is you who have forgotten. You were not the gardener
then. I do not allow gardeners to kiss