see if she were followed. They reached
the Grassmarket at last, and close to the corner of the West Bow found
an entry with the whitewashed inscription above it, "Kennedy's
Lodgings." Baubie glanced round to see if her friend was near, then
vanished upward from her sight. Miss Mackenzie kilted her dress and
began the ascent of the stairs, the steps of which, hollowed out as they
were by the tread of centuries of human feet, afforded a not too safe
footing.

Arrived at the third floor, she found Baubie waiting for her,
breathless and panting.

"It's here," she said--"the big kitchen, mem."

A long, narrow passage lay before them, off which doors opened on all
sides. Precipitating herself at one of these doors, Baubie Wishart, who
could barely reach the latch, pushed it open, giving egress to a
confusion of noises, which seemed to float above a smell of cooking, in
which smell herrings and onions contended for the mastery.

It was a very large room, low-ceilinged, but well enough lighted by a
couple of windows, which looked into a close behind. The walls had been
whitewashed once upon a time, but the whitewash was almost lost to view
under the decorations with which it was overlaid. These consisted of
pictures cut out of the illustrated weekly papers or milliners' books.
All sorts of subjects were represented: fashion-plates hung side by side
with popular preachers and statesmen, race-horses and Roman Catholic
saints; red-and white-draped Madonnas elbowed the "full-dress" heroines
of the penny weeklies. It was a curious gallery, and a good many of the
works of art had the merit of being antique. Generations of flies had
emblazoned their deeds of prowess on the papers: streaks of
candle-grease bore witness to the inquiring turn of mind, attracted by
the letter-press, or the artistic proclivities of Kennedy's lodgers. It
was about two, the dinner-hour probably, which accounted for the
presence of so many people in the room. Most, but not all, seemed to be
of the wandering class. They were variously employed. Some were sitting
on the truckle-beds that ran round the walls; one or two were knitting
or sewing; a cripple was mending baskets in one of the windows; and
about the fire a group were collected superintending the operations
which produced, though not unaided, the odors with which the room was
reeking.

Miss Mackenzie stood for a few minutes, unnoticed apparently, looking
about her at the motley crowd. Baubie on