replied his daughter. "Nae doubt," said Robin; "but ye ken, Peggy, ye hae been very dour to Saunders, and look like the far end o' a fiddle at him." "Is there no anither man in the world but Saunders? I wudna tak him if he were the laird o' Calder Hall, far less the grieve." 'But, Peggy, ye ken Saunders has a great regard for me.' "He gied a bonnie proof o' that last night, when he informed upon you to the laird." "I dinna believe a word o' that. He telt me, no half an hour ago, that he would do a' he could to mak his maister gie me a lease o' the Moss Flat farm." "Aweel, father, you'll maybe find out some day wha are your friends, and wha no; but nane o' us should forget what Willie Stewart did for us last night. If it hadna been for him, whare would ye hae been by this time? no sitting sae blithely at your ain fireside, I'm thinking. Poor Mrs. Stewart! my heart's wae for her." "What's the matter wi' her?" cried the miller. "Matter!" said Peggy; "hae ye no heard that she and Willie are to be turned out o' their house at the term? And Willie says he thinks it will break his mother's heart to be obliged to leave this part o' the country." Maybe," said Janet, "anither house may cast up by that time." There is sma' prospect o' that," replied Peggy; "the laird seems to like better to pu' houses down than to big them up." "We maun see," said Robin, "what's to be done in this business. Andrew Thomson is leaving his house.' "That will never do for them, for the rent is far ower high. "Maybe," said Peggy, as if the thought had that moment struck her, "maybe our ain bit cottage doun at the milldam would do for them. They would be quiet neebours, and you would be sure o' your rent. Besides," continued she, seeing her father hesitate, "ye ken ae good turn deserves anither." "That's true, so I hae nae objections to their getting the house; but mind, Peggy, I'll mak it a bargain that they are neither to keep ducks nor hens to be coming scarting up my seeds, and fleeing into the mill. I'm thinking, Peggy, ye hae ower mony o' thae gentry your sell; ye maun either sell some o' them, or thraw their necks. "Ony thing to please you," said Peggy, delighted at having carried her point. "I promise you a fine dish o' cockyleekie to your dinner on Sabbath." "I think," said Janet, "less might sair. I daresay ye would get eighteenpence for the "Ye cock." "Hout, mother, what's eighteenpence in comparison of pleasuring my father?" hae an unco tongue, lassie," said her mother. "Ye can maist persuade folk that black's white." "I hope," replied Peggy, "that you are persuaded that naebody likes you half sae weel as I do. But I see the potatoes are ready." So saying, she dished them neatly, and then ran out for the milk. "I think, Janet," said Robin, "that that lassie's cast glamour in our een." After their supper was finished, the miller took down the large Bible, and read a chapter; after which they all joined in the hundredth psalm, and the goodman ended with a short prayer. "What ails ye, Robin?" said Janet, next day; "ye look fashed like." "Andrew and I," said Robin, "hae had some words, and he's gane aff the night, and I'm vexed at it, as I'm sae thrang, the folk crying for new meal before I can get it ready. I maun gang down to some o' the neebours, and see if they ken o' onybody that will do till the term, for I canna do without some ane-the thing's impossible." Peggy, seeing her father ready to stumble over her plants, hastily snatched them up, and carried them into a corner o' the byre. "Cry me in," said Robin, "when the dinner's ready." "It's an unco pity," said Janet, "that Andrew's gane awa', and Robin sae thrang." "Hout," said Peggy, "men are no sae scarce; nae fear but he will get somebody or other. Mother, I am going down to Mary Murdoch's for some thread. I'll no stay lang." Her mother answered that there was plenty of thread in her upper drawer; but Peggy took care not to hear her. "That's a new road to Mary Murdoch's," thought Janet, as she saw Peggy with a light and rapid step proceed in a contrary direction. "Is William in?" said Peggy to the little girl who opened the door of Mrs. Stewart's cottage. "No," answered Annie: he got a letter last night, and he was aff this morning to Carnside before daylight; but will ye no gang ben? Mrs. Stewart will be blythe to see ye." "I havena time to stop just now; but take in these eggs to Mrs. Stewart, and say I'll call some day soon." Peggy now hastily retraced her steps homewards, wondering who this letter could be from, and so deeply was she absorbed in these meditations, that the subject of them was close to her before she observed him. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Peggy?" said Willie. Were you really going to pass me without speaking?" "Who expected to see you?" said Peggy. "I was up at the house, wanting to see you, and Annie said you were away to Carnside." "Well, but, now we are met, tell me your errand." "It was naething worth speaking about;" for it now struck Peggy that William might not like to take Andrew's place. "Well," said William, "though you have nothing to say to me, I have something to say to you; so let us turn down the burn here." Peggy permitted herself to be led into the sheltered walk which bordered the little stream, but all the while protesting that she could not stay, as her father was fashed about Andrew's going away. "Never let your honest father, vex himself about that, as long as I have strength and health. Tell him I will be at the mill by daylight. Much would I do for Robin Baillie as an honest man and a good neighbour; but far more for him as the father of my Peggy, now my bonnie bride, but soon, I hope, my wedded wife." "Preserve us! Willie," said Peggy, disen gaging herself from the arms of her lover, "are you daft a'thegither? You must not think, far less speak, of such a thing." "Did you no promise me, Peggy, that you would marry me as soon as I could stock a farm, and give you a comfortable home?" "That I did, Willie. Ye ken weel that I would rather wait for you, than marry the richest carl in the parish." Her lover gazed upon her for a few moments with sparkling eyes, and then proceeded to inform her that he had, the night before, received a letter from a writer in Carnside, telling him that he had recovered for him the sum of £700, which had been a debt due to his father, but which all his family had long ceased to hope would ever be paid. But paid | it was; and it is difficult to say which of the youthful lovers rejoiced most in the unexpected circumstance. "That lassie's daft," said Janet. "I canna think what's come ower her. She said she would be no time, and the dinner's done. The broth's as cauld as lead, and her father's away to the mill again. What, in a' the world has come ower ye, Peggy?" said her mother, in a displeased tone. "Does Mary Murdoch's shop lie up the burn? I dinna like this kind o' hiddling wark." "Oh! mother," said Peggy, "dinna be angry. I just gaed up to Mrs. Stewart's to see Willie, and he is to come and help my father till he gets somebody else in Andrew's place." "Weel, my bairn, could ye no hae said sae? But I'm no angry," added she, as she saw Peggy's eyes fill with tears. Sit down, and take your dinner wise-like." "I'm no hungry," faltered Peggy. “Nonsense! sit down and eat something. I hae put on the broth, and they will be warm in a moment." To please her mother, Peggy tried to eat, but she made little progress in her occupation. After forcing down a few mouthfuls, she began to put the kitchen in order. Willie Stewart came up in the evening to offer his services in the mill, which put Robin into such glee, that he desired Janet to put down the whiskybottle. "I hae some nice new-kirned milk," said Janet; "it's far mair wholesome, and no sae heating in this warm weather.” “Take away your watery trash," said the indignant miller. "Kirned milk may do very weel for women and bairns, but men that work frae daylight till e'en need something stronger to keep up their hearts." Janet found it would be as well to comply with a good grace; so, setting the bottle on the table, she retired to count some yarn she had just got from Annie Colquhoun,—a precaution extremely necessary to be observed, as it is no uncommon circumstance for the reels of country wives to check too soon. Finding her mother deeply engaged in hanks, heers, and spindles, Peggy also retired, leaving William to open the important business, which he did in the following words: "I have no doubt, Mr. Baillie, but ye must have observed that Peggy and I have long had a great regard for one another; but I could not think of speaking to you till I had some prospect of maintaining a wife. I have just heard that I am seven hundred pounds richer the day than I was yesterday. I have recovered a debt that was owing to my father: I can now give your daughter a proper home; and I hope ye will let her share my lot-I wish it was ten times better for her sake. think of taking a farm; and ye ken it's no in nature for a farmer to do without a wife." I "Aweel," said Robin, "I fancy I maunna say no, or I would get baith Peggy and you on my tap. I hae nae doubt, Willie, but you'll be kind to my bairn, for there's no a better in a' the parish; but I've just this to say,I maun see you secured in a farm, wise-like, before Peggy and you come thegither. ye ony farm in view?" William mentioned one of Mr. Berriedale's. "Weel," said Robin, "as I am mair up to the ways of the world than you are, leave the making o' the bargain to me." Hae William gratefully accepted the miller's offer. Robin then filled his glass to the brim, and drank to the health of William and Peggy. "O man," said he to William, "I think my heart and my een are as ready to rin ower as this glass; but see that ye make a good husband to her, Willie; for though she has a daffing way with her, she could never bide a hard word a' her days." It will easily be believed that William made abundance of fine promises to the miller, and, what is perhaps a little singular, he actually intended to fulfil them. As soon as William could get away from Robin, he hastened into the West Park, where he found Peggy driving home the cows to be milked. "My dearest Peggy," cried William, "I am the happiest man in the world. Your father has given his consent to our marriage, as soon as I am settled in a farm. I am anxious to remain in this part of the country, among our own folk; so your father is to see There and get me a lease of Cross Hill farm. | ible hints that it was past milking time; but the lovers were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay the least attention to her. Her loud lowing had at last reached the careful ears of Mrs. Baillie, who, almost as fond of her cow as of her daughter, was not pleased at finding her neglected in this manner. Mrs. Baillie's summons quickened Peggy's steps homewards, and Willie also walked off to his mother's cottage, half a convert to Peggy's opinion that it would be better to have a house of their own. "What taigled ye sae lang, Peggy?" asked her mother. "Did ye no hear Hawky making a routing enough to deave a body? I wonder ye could stand and hear her." "I wonder at that too," answered Peggy; "but she is a camsteery brute, and maun hae her ain gate." "Dinna gang to abuse Hawky," said Janet; "there's no such another cow in the parish.' For routing," answered the incorrigible Peg is a very poor house upon it, but Mr. Berrie-gy. "No, for butter," said her mother; "but ye dale has agreed to build a new one when he lets the farm. But, Peggy, if it should be long of being ready, your father will surely no put off our marriage for that? I am sure there is plenty of room in your own house: we might | stay there for a while.' "That's just the gate of you men," answered Peggy;-"give you an inch, and you'll take an ell; but never think, Willie, that I will consent to any such thing. One man is enough in a house, and whiles ower muckle. A bonnie kippage I would be in if my father and you had ony cast-out! Ye ken, Willie, I would hae to take part with you; for right or wrong, a woman must aye side with her gudeman." "I hope, Peggy," said William, "you do not think I have a quarrelsome temper?" dinna think sae muckle o' her as ye should do.' "I have seen waur," said Peggy, gaily; "but let us take time, and look about us. I dinna care how wee our house is; but I would aye like a place I could ca' my ain; for, thoughness. we are a very couthy the now, naebody can tell how long it will last. But dinna think, dear Willie," said she, observing his disappointed look,-"dinna think I want to draw back of my word, for there's my thumb, I'll ne'er beguile thee.' "You must," said William, "have everything your own way now; but mind, Peggy, my time's coming." "I ken that brawly," said his fair companion; "but there's nae need to brag o't." Their conversation was here interrupted by Janet, who had come to the head of the brae, and now demanded why the cows were not brought home. Hawky had given many aud William Stewart having gained the miller's consent to his marriage with Peggy, hastened to communicate to his mother the joyful intelligence. Mrs. Stewart was calmly knitting a stocking, when, accidentally looking up, she saw Willie hastening rapidly to the house. She was at first alarmed; but one glance at his face, beaming with joy, quieted her fears. "Come away, my dear bairn, it makes me young again to see you so blythe. Have you got a prize?" "Yes, dear mother, a prize for life. I am sure you will rejoice in my happiWhat will ye say when I tell you I am thinking of marrying?" "I will say it is a wise step, if you have made a proper choice." "Do not doubt that," said William; "there will not be a better wife in Scotland; and for temper, mother, I never saw her equal, and she is so clever and active." "And so pretty?" said his mother, smiling. Peggy Baillie, my dear William, makes an excellent daughter, and there can be no better security that she will make a good wife." "How did you find out, dear mother, that it was Peggy that I meant?" "Oh, my dear son, what feeling of your heart can escape a mother's anxious eye? Who have I to think of, to watch over, to guide, but you, my dear William?—my support, my best earthly comfort. But take | having almost evaporated, he determined to go my blessing, my son, and I pray that your to the mill and see in what kind of humour filial kindness to me may be repaid, even in his fair Peggy now was. Mrs. Baillie only earthly happiness, tenfold." William now spent most part of his time at the mill. He assisted Robin very materially in his labours for the good of the public; in short he was his right-hand man, and a great favourite; and there never had been a hasty word between them, except once, when William was flirting a little with Peggy, while Robin was in a great hurry to get some meal sent off, and which he could not manage by himself. "Come awa, come awa, Willie," | said Robin in a hasty tone; "there's a time for a' thing, and there's to be nae daffing when there's such a thrang." "Peggy is right again," thought William; "we man hae a hame o' our ain." One evening Robin could not help remarking Peggy's unusual gravity. "Nae wonder," said Janet; "I'm wae to see her." "What's the matter?" cried Robin hastily. "Willie hasna been ower discreet to her.' "What's that I hear?" replied the miller, in great wrath, and reaching down his blue bonnet. "No discreet to my bairn?" Peggy, who was in the garden, hearing her father speaking in an angry tone, came running in, and seeing him preparing to go out, asked him where he was going; to which the miller gave no answer. "Mother," said Peggy, "will ye no tell me where my father's going?" He is going to Willie," said Janet, "to ken the meaning o' his behaviour." "Stand out my road, and let me past, my bairn." Robin spoke with tenderness on observing the tears flowing fast from Peggy's eyes, who had placed herself between her father and the door. 'Ye maunna gang, dear father," said she, taking hold of his hand. "I'm in the faut, and Willie's no to blame. I was very saucy to him, and nae wonder he was angry. So sit down," said she, trying to smile through her tears; and, taking off her father's bonnet, she hung it on its accustomed pin. "Ye are an unco lassie," said the miller; "ye mak us a' do just what ye like; but are ye sure that ye were in the faut?" "Quite sure," replied Peggy. "Now Peggy," said Janet, "ye ken that "Hout, mother, what's the use o' coming ower auld clatters the now? Do you hear Hawky routing to be milked, poor beast?" The necessity of milking Hawky put an end to the conversation, to the great relief of Peggy. Next morning the miller went about his usual occupations, and Peggy was sent by her mother down to the village. William's anger was in. "Aweel," said Janet, "it's better that you and her should red this quarrel, than that Robin should meddle with it; for, as he heard ye had no been civil to Peggy, he was on his road down to ye last night; but the silly lassie held him by the coat, and wouldna let him. and telt him that she had provoked ye, and that ye had gude reason to be angry wi' her; and she took a' the wyte on hersell." "Did she indeed?" cried William. "Troth did she," replied Janet; "and maybe it was as weel; for if Robin had gane down in ane o' his camsteery fits, there's nae saying what might hae happened." Weel, Mrs. Baillie, I can only say, I wish my tongue had been cut out before I vexed her." "Vexed her!” replied Janet; "there's little doubt that she was vexed. She hasna eat as muckle these three days as would hae served a sparrow. She has nae heart even to lift the kirn-staff. I sent her down to Mary Murdoch's for a pennyworth o' needles, just to divert her." On receiving this intelligence William immediately took leave of Mrs. Baillie, and stationed himself at a part of the road which he knew Peggy must pass in her way home. He waited till, his patience being almost exhausted, he thought of going down to the village to meet her, when a sudden scream startled him. He looked round, and saw his beloved Peggy flying across a field, pursued by an enraged bull. William leaped over the wall, and in another moment he was at her side. He then, tearing a branch from a tree, kept the animal at bay till Peggy had scrambled over the wall; and as soon as he saw her in safety he vaulted over also. She then said, "Dear William, are you hurt?" "Not in the least; but why did you go through the park, in place of coming by the road?" Just because I saw you there." "I did not think that I was sae fearsome." "I hae seen uglier men," said Peggy, with one of her heartsome smiles. As might be expected, they parted at the foot of the brae, more in love than ever. "I kent," said Janet, "that ye would be the better o' the caller air. Your cheeks are like twa roses; but where's the needles?" Peggy was confounded at the demand, and paused to consider where she could have lost them. Indeed, mother, I am thinking that I drappit them in the East Park." "And what took ye there? Did ye want that rampaging brute to kill ye?" "I thought," said Peggy, "that he wouldna notice me, for he was feeding at the other end of the park; but if it hadna been for Willie Stewart, I daresay he would hae sticket me." "Never," said Janet, " gang in there again. Mind I forbid ye. And to think o' a' the gude needles wasted, and there's no one in the house that will let in worsted-and sae mony o' your father's stockings needing mending!" Peggy rummaged her repositories, and happily succeeded in finding a needle of the proper dimensions. "Dear me!" cried Janet, some days after wards, "what's making Willie Stewart flee up the brae that gate? I think he'll break his neck." Peggy ran out to meet him. In a moment he was at her side, and taking her in his arms, he gave her a hearty kiss. "If ever I saw the match o' that impudence!" said Peggy angrily. "Gie me joy, Peggy," said William. "Gie ye joy! It would set me better to gie ye a gude threshing." "If ye scold me again, Peggy, I'll hae anither. Do ye no ken, woman, that ye're speaking to the new grieve o' Calder Hall?" "It's no possible!" said Peggy. "It's true," said William, "and I ran here directly to claim my bride." 66 'Here, then, dear William, take my hand-ye ken weel ye hae lang had my heart. After a little farther parley the happy lovers returned to the house. "I am come, Mrs. Baillie," said William, "to claim Peggy and Hawky's calf." "Ye had better take the calf, Willie," said Peggy, laughing; "for ye ken, if ye should ever be angry, it canna speak back like some folk." "Baith's best," said William, gaily, and then proceeded to narrate to Mrs. Baillie that the laird of Calder Hall had appointed him grieve, in the room of Saunders M'Ilhose, who had been detected in several peculations. My word, but ye are a lucky lad! I think, Peggy, ye will be weel lodged." William, after making them promise that they would come down in the evening to his mother's, now departed to gladden her maternal heart with this delightful news. As soon as Robin returned from the village Mrs. Baillie made him acquainted with William's good fortune, and his haste to claim Peggy. "We shall miss her sair," replied | honest Robin, "for she's a bit gude lassie; but I maun see and gie them something out o' my pock-neuk to begin wi'.' "Dinna gie them ower muckle at first," cried Janet. "Young creatures like them are unco thoughtless." "Wha would I gie to, if I didna gie to my ain bairn? Willie's no greedy, but that's nae reason why I shouldna gie her some tocher. Come ben, my bairn," cried the miller, "and take my blessing." Peggy, with tears in her eyes, threw her arms round the neck of her worthy father, who tried to pass off the tear on his cheek for one of Peggy's pearly drops. 66 They proceeded, in the evening, to Mrs. Stewart's, where they met a most hearty welcome. 'Aweel, Mrs. Stewart," said Robin, our bairns are wishing to leave us, and get a house o' their ain. I maun gie them something wise-like to begin wi'." "I dare say, Mr. Baillie," said Mrs. Stewart, "there will be naething wanting on your part to make them comfortable." "I hope sae," replied Robin; "and we maun gie them a grand wedding." "I dinna want ony sough about it,' rejoined Peggy. "Hout, lassie," said Robin, "do ye think that I will let ye be married in ony hiddling way, as if ye were some sma' cottar's dochter? It happens but ance in a life, and I maun hae my ain way; so say nae mair about it. The Baillies had aye grand hobbleshows at their weddings, and I like to keep up gude auld fashions.' "Indeed," said Janet, in a low voice, to Mrs. Stewart, "I am something o' Peggy's mind, to put it ower in a quiet, orderly manner; for such a heap o' folk as Robin is speaking o' asking will raise an unco rippet, besides making a great waste o' meat and drink." Mrs. Stewart evaded giving any opinion on this debated point by asking Mrs. Baillie to take another cup of tea. The whole country side rang with the preparations which were making at the mill for Peggy's marriage. Robin had ordered half a cow to be salted, and had sent in a boll of his best meal to be baked into cakes. All this waste gave great annoyance to poor Mrs. Baillie, who thought she was doing no more than her duty when she subtracted a few pecks from the appointed quantity. "I am sure," said Janet to Peggy, "I wish that you and Willie had put ower your wedding soberly and quietly, without a' this stramash. Robin's clean gane aff at the nail about it." "I am as vexed as ye can be about it, mother; but ye ken I canna help it. My father would |