our wool go to the mill? The carding takes
so long, and my mother is not so strong as she used to be. And that is
one of the things I cannot abide. The weary little wheel is bad enough.
Will you ask your father, Christie?"

Mrs More laughed.

"That is but a small favour, Shenac. Of course my father will take it,
and he'll bring it back too; for, though it is not his usual plan at
this time of the year, he's going on all the way to M--- with butter.
There came word yesterday that there was great demand for it. The wool
will be done by the time he comes back; and he is to take his own too, I
believe."

Shenac gave a sigh of relief.

"Well, that's settled."

"Why did you not ask my father himself?" said Mrs More. "Are not you
and he good friends, Shenac?" Shenac muttered something about not
liking to give trouble and not liking to ask Angus Dhu. Mrs More
laughed again.

"I think you are hard on my father, Shenac. I think he would be a good
friend to you if you would let him. You must not mind a sharp word from
the like of him. His bark is worse than his bite."

Shenac was inexpressibly uncomfortable, remembering that all the hard
words had come from her and not from Angus Dhu.

"Well, never mind," said Mrs More; "the carrying of the wool is my
father's favour. What can I do for you, Shenac?"

"You can do one thing for me," said Shenac briskly, glad to escape from
a painful subject, and laying her hand on a shining instrument of steel
that peeped from beneath the wool on which she was sitting. "You can
cut my hair off. My mother does not like to do it, and Hamish won't. I
was going to ask Shenac yonder; but you will do it better." And she
began to loosen the heavy braids.

"What's that about Shenac yonder?" said that young person, coming in
upon them. "I should like to know what you are plotting, you two,
together--and bringing in my innocent name too!"

"Nothing very bad," said Shenac, laughing. "I want Christie to cut my
hair, it is such a trouble; it takes a whole half-hour at one time or
other of the day to keep it neat, and half-hours are precious."

"I don't like to do it, Shenac," said Mrs More.

Shenac Dhu held up her hands in astonishment.

"Cut your hair off! Was the like ever heard of?--Nonsense, Christie!
she never means it; and Hamish would never let her, besides. She'll
look no better than the rest of us without her hair," continued she,
taking the heavy braids out of Shen