n in
your back worse the nicht, that you are so restless?" and the clicking
of the needles ceased as the woman asked the question.

"Oh, I'm no' so bad at all," came the answer. "My back's maybe a wee bit
sore; but a body gets tired lying always in the yin position. Forby, the
day aye seems long when you are out, and I dinna like to think of you
out working all day, and then sitting down to knit at nicht. It must be
very tiring for you, Nellie."

"Oh, I'm no' that tired," she replied with a show of cheerfulness, as
she turned another wire in the sock, and set the balls of wool dancing
on the floor with the speed at which she worked. "I've had a real good
day to-day, and I'm feeling that I could just sit for a lang while the
nicht, if only the paraffin oil wadna' go down so quick. But the longer
I sit, it burns the more, and it's getting gey dear to buy now-a-days."

"Ay," said the weary voice of the man. "If it's no' clegs it's midges.
Folk have always something to contend against. But don't be long till
you stop. It's almost twelve o'clock, and you ought to be in your bed."

"Oh, I'll no' be very long, Geordie," was the bravely cheerful answer.
"Just you try and gang to sleep and I'll soon finish up. I'll have to
try and get up early in the morning, for I have to go to Mrs. Rundell
and wash. She always gi'es me twa shillings, and that's a good day's
pay. The only thing I grudge is being away all day, leaving you and the
bairns, for I ken they're no' very easy to put up with. They're steerin'
weans, and are no' easy on a body who is ill."

"Ay, they're a steerin' lot, lassie," he answered tenderly. "But, poor
things, they must hae some freedom, Nellie. I wish I was ready for my
work."

"Hoot, man," she said with the same show of cheerfulness. "We might have
been worse, and you will be better some day, and able to work as well as
ever you did."

For a time there was silence, broken only by the loud ticking of the
clock, the clicking of the needles, and occasionally a low moan from the
bed, as the injured miner sank into a restless sleep.

There had been an accident some six weeks before, and Geordie Sinclair,
badly wounded by a fall of stone, had been brought home from the pit in
a cart.

It was during the time known to old miners as the "two-and-sixpenny
winter," that being the sum of the daily wage then earned by the miners.
A financial crisis had come upon the country and the Glasgow City Bank
had failed, t