was spinning, and Elsie, by the
light of a little oil lamp suspended against the wall, was teaching
her youngest brother to read. Whatever she did, she always seemed in
my eyes to do it better than anyone else; and to see her under the
lamp, with one arm round the little fellow who stood leaning against
her, while the other hand pointed with a knitting-needle to the
letters of the spelling-book which lay on her knee, was to see a
lovely picture. The mother did not rise from her spinning, but spoke a
kindly welcome, while Elsie got up, and without approaching us, or
saying more than a word or two, set chairs for us by the fire, and
took the little fellow away to put him to bed.

"It's a cold night," said Mrs. Duff. "The wind seems to blow through
me as I sit at my wheel. I wish my husband would come home."

"He'll be suppering his horses," said Turkey. "I'll just run across
and give him a hand, and that'll bring him in the sooner."

"Thank you, Turkey," said Mrs. Duff as he vanished.

"He's a fine lad," she remarked, much in the same phrase my father
used when speaking of him.

"There's nobody like Turkey," I said.

"Indeed, I think you're right there, Ranald. A better-behaved lad
doesn't step. He'll do something to distinguish himself some day. I
shouldn't wonder if he went to college, and wagged his head in a
pulpit yet."

The idea of Turkey wagging his head in a pulpit made me laugh.

"Wait till you see," resumed Mrs. Duff, somewhat offended at my
reception of her prophecy. "Folk will hear of him yet."

"I didn't mean he couldn't be a minister, Mrs. Duff. But I don't think
he will take to that."

Here Elsie came back, and lifting the lid of the pot, examined the
state of its contents. I got hold of her hand, but for the first time
she withdrew it. I did not feel hurt, for she did it very gently. Then
she began to set the white deal table in the middle of the floor, and
by the time she had put the plates and spoons upon it, the water in
the pot was boiling, and she began to make the porridge, at which she
was judged to be first-rate--in my mind, equal to our Kirsty. By the
time it was ready, her father and Turkey came in. James Duff said
grace, and we sat down to our supper. The wind was blowing hard
outside, and every now and then the hail came in deafening rattles
against the little windows, and, descending the wide chimney, danced
on the floor about the hearth; but not a thought of the long, stormy
way