to the hall or the garden;
it matters not; there is some fatal charm in our humble hospitality.
At four o'clock one of us is obliged to be, like Sister Anne, on the
housetop; and if company approaches, she must descend and speed to the
plumber's for sixpenny worth extra of cream. In most well-ordered
British households Miss Grieve would be requested to do this speeding,
but both her mind and her body move too slowly for such domestic
crises; and then, too, her temper has to be kept as unruffled as
possible, so that she will cut the bread and butter thin. This she
generally does if she has not been "fair doun-hadden wi' wark;" but
the washing of her own spinster cup and plate, together with the
incident sighs and groans, occupies her till so late an hour that she
is not always dressed for callers.

Willie and I were reading "The Lady of the Lake," the other day, in
the back garden, surrounded by the verdant leafage of our own
kail-yard. It is a pretty spot when the sun shines, a trifle domestic
in its air, perhaps, but restful: Miss Grieve's dish-towels and aprons
drying on the currant bushes, the cat playing with a mutton-bone or a
fishtail on the grass, and the little birds perching on the rims of
our wash-boiler and water-buckets. It can be reached only by way of
the kitchen, which somewhat lessens its value as a pleasure-ground or
a rustic retreat, but Willie and I retire there now and then for a
quiet chat.

On this particular occasion Willie was declaiming the exciting verses
where FitzJames and Murdoch are crossing the stream

"That joins Loch Katrine to Achray,"

where the crazed Blanche of Devan first appears:--

"All in the Trosachs' glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high--
'Murdoch! was that a signal cry?'"

"It was indeed," said Francesca, appearing suddenly at an upper window
overhanging the garden. "Pardon this intrusion, but the castle people
are here," she continued in what is known as a stage whisper,--that
is, one that can be easily heard by a thousand persons,--"the castle
people and the ladies from Pettybaw House; and Mr. Macdonald is coming
down the loaning; but Calamity Jane is making her toilette in the
kitchen, and you cannot take Mr. Beresford through into the
sitting-room at present. She says this hoose has so few conveniences
that it's 'fair sickenin'.'"

"How long will she be?" queried Mr. Beresford anxiously, put