spering. The door was soon opened, and a parley took
place, in which I heard my assumed name made honourable mention of by
my intruder. He led me forward, pushed me gently before him, and I
found myself in a dark passage, soft hands welcoming me, and warm
breath playing on my cheek.

The door was closed, and we were led into a wide rude apartment, dim
in the low glow of a heap of embers. A splinter of bogwood was soon
kindled, and by its light I saw that we had been conducted by two
girls. One, whom from her attention to Aleck I concluded to be her of
the reaping-hook, was a pretty interesting soft maiden. The other,
however, had attractions of a very different class: fine-featured,
dark-eyed, coal-black-haired and tall; as she stood--her right hand
holding the rude torch over her head, while the left gathered the
folds of a long cloak under her bosom, with her eyes of coy
expectation and merry amazement--she seemed more the ideal of a
robber's daughter in some old romance, than a menial in a moorland
farm-house. I attempted to salute her, but she held me at bay with her
hand. "Hech, lad! ye're no blate--is it knievin' troots[A] ye think
ye are? But, my stars, ye _are_ as droukit as if ye had been through
a' the pools o' the burn! Sit down, my jo, till we dry ye; and be
qu'et till I get a fire." Peats and bogwood were now heaped upon the
hearth; and, kneeling down upon the broad stone, she began puffing
away with her pretty puckered mouth; partly, I suppose, because there
are no bellows in Glen----; and partly, I took it for granted, to
afford me an opportunity of kneeling beside and preeing it. The smoke
now rose before me in thick volumes, and for a while I lost sight of
Aleck and his Jeanie. By and by, however, on raising my head, I
started back at seeing a figure the most extraordinary standing at the
further end of the apartment. A blanket covered the shoulders; the
feet and legs were bare; a red handkerchief was tied about the head;
and, strangest of all, although the hairy neck and whiskers argued him
a man, yet was he from the waist to the knees clad in a petticoat!

[Footnote A: "Knieving trouts" (they call it tickling in England) is
good sport. You go to a stony shallow at night, a companion bearing a
torch; then, stripping to the thighs and shoulders, wade in; grope
with your hands under the stones, sods, and other harbourage, till you
find your game, then gripe him in your "knieve" and toss him ashore.

I