reply, "Fine I mind Jock," and then
both would proceed to confidences.

"Hullo, Tam," said Lewis at last, realizing his henchman's grandeur. "Why
this magnificence of dress?

"I'm gaun to the Sabbath-school treat this afternoon," said that worthy.

"And you, Jock-are you going too?"

"No me! I'm ower auld, and besides, I've cast out wi' the minister."

"How was that?"

"Oh, I had been fechtin'," said Jock airily. "It was Andra Laidlaw. He
called me ill names, so I yokit on him and bate him too, but I got my
face gey sair bashed. The minister met me next day when I was a' blue
and yellow, and, says he, 'John Laverlaw, what have ye been daein'?
Ye're a bonny sicht for Christian een. How do ye think a face like
yours will look between a pair o' wings in the next warld?' I ken I'm no
bonny," added the explanatory Jock; "but ye canna expect a man to thole
siccan language as that."

Lewis laughed and, being engaged in clipping his third sheep, forgot the
delicacy of his task and let the shears slip. A very ugly little cut on
the animal's neck was the result.

"Oh, confound it!" cried the penitent amateur. "Look what I've done,
Yed. I'll have to rub in some of that stuff of yours and sew on a
bandage. The files will kill the poor thing if we leave the cut bare in
this infernal heat."

The old shepherd nodded, and pointed to where the remedies were kept.
Jock went for the box, which contained, besides the ointment, some rolls
of stout linen and a huge needle and twine. Lewis doctored the wound as
best he could, and then proceeded to lay on the cloth and sew it to the
fleece. The ewe grew restless with the heat and the pinching of the
cut, and Jock was given the task of holding her head.

Clearly Lewis was not meant by Providence for a tailor. He made
lamentable work with the needle. It slipped and pricked his fingers,
while his unfeeling friends jeered and Tam turned great eyes of sympathy
upwards from his Sunday garments.

"Patience, patience, man!" said the old herd. "Ca' cannier and be a wee
thing quieter in your langwidge. There's a wheen leddies comin' up the
burn."

It was too late. Before Lewis understood the purport of the speech Lady
Manorwater and her party were at the folds, and as he made one final
effort with the refractory needle a voice in his ear said:

"Please let me do that, Mr. Haystoun. I've often done it before."

He looked up and met Alice Wishart's laughing eyes. She stood beside
him and