rge of
the woman. She spent the rest of the day in a dismal, ugly room, with
a number of girls, who were rough and disagreeable and ill-tempered,
and could not possibly have been more wretched. Her experience had
made her distrustful of every one, so that she was dreadfully afraid
of what might happen as the consequence of all she had betrayed. She
was distracted, too, about Duncan, and altogether could find but
meagre comfort in the promise that by-and-by she should be allowed to
go back home again.

CHAPTER XVIII.--HOME FROM MARKET.

"Ye seem to be doing right well to-day, judging by your face,"
exclaimed the hearty voice of Farmer Jarrett, as he encountered Mrs.
McDougall in the market-place.

"Yes, I'm thankful to say it," Mrs. McDougall replied. "I was just
about to go and buy a thing or two. Ye're no waiting for me, are
you?"

"No, not that," the farmer returned. "I've a bit of business myself
to be looking after. But we'd best be on our road before long. The
sky doesna look so very well."

Mrs. McDougall packed up her baskets one in the other, and stowed
them away in the cart. She had sold everything but a few bundles of
beans, and was well content. So she trudged off to buy some yarn and
some homespun tweed where she could get the most for her money.

When she returned, she found the horse harnessed, and Farmer Jarrett
seated in his cart. She jumped up with a word or two of apology, and
they started on their homeward way.

"I've been a bit extravagant," she said presently. "I've bought a
book for Elsie's birthday next month, and a pretty silk tie."

"The wee bit lassie'll be just wild with delight," the farmer said,
kindly.

"She's getting a big lassie, and she's over-proud of her appearance,"
Mrs. McDougall said, not without a touch of pride. "It does no good
to encourage vanity, but I wouldn't have her always longing for
pretty things, so she shall just wear this tie to the kirk on the
Sabbath Day. Her grannie would just give in to the bairn, and let her
gang her own way altogether."

"The old are apt to be foolish with their grandchildren," the farmer
replied. "Yet your mother was a strict woman, and a good mother."

"That's a true word," Mrs. McDougall replied.

"And the poor old wifie must be just contented and happy, spending
her last days with you and the bairns. With Nannie dead, and Dugald
in a far land, she might have come to want. You've had your troubles,
but you're not without a r