w and
then, to see George Macwha, who, of an age beyond the seduction of ice
and skates, kept on steadily at his work. To him she would repeat a
ballad or two, at his request, and then go home to increase her stock.
This was now a work of some difficulty, for her provision of candles
was exhausted, and she had no money with which to buy more. The last
candle had come to a tragical end. For, hearing steps approaching her
room one morning, before she had put it away in its usual safety in her
box, she hastily poked it into one of the holes in the floor and forgot
it. When she sought it at night, it was gone. Her first dread was that
she had been found out; but hearing nothing of it, she concluded at
last that her enemies the _rottans_ had carried it off and devoured it.

"Deil choke them upo' the wick o' 't!" exclaimed Curly, when she told
him the next day, seeking a partner in her grief.

But a greater difficulty had to be encountered. It was not long before
she had exhausted her book, from which she had chosen the right poems
by insight, wonderfully avoiding by instinct the unsuitable, without
knowing why, and repelled by the mere tone.

She thought day and night where additional _pabulum_ might be procured,
and at last came to the resolution of applying to Mr Cowie the
clergyman. Without consulting any one, she knocked on an afternoon at
Mr Cowie's door.

"Cud I see the minister?" she said to the maid.

"I dinna ken. What do you want?" was the maid's reply.

But Annie was Scotch too, and perhaps perceived that she would have but
a small chance of being admitted into the minister's presence if she
communicated the object of her request to the servant. So she only
replied,

"I want to see himsel', gin ye please."

"Weel, come in, and I'll tell him. What's yer name?"

"Annie Anderson"

"Whaur do ye bide?"

"At Mr Bruce's, i' the Wast Wynd."

The maid went, and presently returning with the message that she was to
"gang up the stair," conducted her to the study where the minister
sat--a room, to Annie's amazement, filled with books from the top to
the bottom of every wall. Mr Cowie held out his hand to her, and said,

"Well, my little maiden, what do you want?"

"Please, sir, wad ye len' me a sang-buik?"

"A psalm-book?" said the minister, hesitatingly, supposing he had not
heard aright, and yet doubting if this could be the correction of his
auricular blunder.

"Na, sir; I hae a psalm-buik at hame. It'