her dress.

"May I come again to see them, please?" asked Betty. "They've got the
spirit of the Scotch dogs. They are the first true friends I have met
since I left Scotland."

"And may I make bold to ask your name, miss?" inquired the farmer's
wife.

"Yes, you may," said Betty. "It isn't much of a name. It's just Betty
Vivian, and I live at Haddo Court."

"My word! Be you one of them young ladies?"

"I don't know quite what you mean; but I am Betty Vivian, and I live at
Haddo Court."

"But how ever did you get on the high road, miss?" asked the farmer.

Betty laughed. "I went to the edge of what they call the common," she
said. "I found a fence, and I vaulted over--that is all. I don't like
your country much, farmer; there's no space about it. But the dogs, they
are darlings!"

"You're the pluckiest young gel I ever come across," said the man. "How
you managed to tame 'em is more than I can say. Why, they are real
brutes when any one comes nigh the farm; and over and over I has said to
the wife, 'You ought to lock them brutes up, wife.' But she's rare and
kindhearted, and is very fond of them, whelps that they be."

"I wonder," said the woman, "if missie would come into the house and
have a bite of summat to eat? We makes butter for the Court, miss; and
we sends up all our eggs, and many a pair of fat chickens and turkeys
and other fowl. We're just setting down to dinner, and can give you some
potatoes and pork."

Betty laughed gleefully. "I'd love potatoes and pork more than
anything," she said. "May Dan and Beersheba dine with us?"

"Well, miss, I don't expect you'll find it easy to get 'em parted from
you."

So Betty entered the farmyard, and walked through, in her direct
fashion, without picking her steps; for she loved, as she expressed it,
a sense of confusion and the sight of different animals. She had a knack
of making herself absolutely at home, and did so on the present
occasion. Soon she was seated in the big bright kitchen of the
farmhouse, and was served with an excellent meal of the best fresh pork
and the most mealy potatoes she had seen since she left Scotland. Mrs.
Miles gave her a great big glass of rich milk, but she preferred water.
Dan sat at one side of her, Beersheba at the other. They did not ask for
food; but they asked imploringly for the pat of a firm, brown little
hand, and for the look of love in Betty's eyes.

"I have enjoyed myself," said the girl, jumping up. "I do thi