In that garb he had first known her, and in the form of his mother.
"I won'er," said Doory at length, "'at yoong Eppy 's no puttin' in
her appearance! I was sure o' her the nicht: she hasna been near 's
a' the week!"
The cobbler turned to Donal to explain. He would not talk of things
their guest did not understand; that would be like shutting him out
after taking him in!
"Yoong Eppy 's a gran'child, sir--the only ane we hae. She's a weel
behavet lass, though ta'en up wi' the things o' this warl' mair nor
her grannie an' me could wuss. She's in a place no far frae
here--no an easy ane, maybe, to gie satisfaction in, but she's duin'
no that ill."
"Hoot, Anerew! she's duin' jist as well as ony lassie o' her years
could in justice be expeckit," interposed the grandmother. "It's
seldom the Lord 'at sets auld heid upo' yoong shoothers."
The words were hardly spoken when a light foot was heard coming up
the stair.
"--But here she comes to answer for hersel'!" she added cheerily.
The door of the room opened, and a good-looking girl of about
eighteen came in.
"Weel, yoong Eppy, hoo 's a' wi' ye?" said the old man.
The grandmother's name was Elspeth, the grand-daughter's had
therefore always the prefix.
"Brawly, thank ye, gran'father," she answered. "Hoo 's a' wi'
yersel'?"
"Ow, weel cobblet!" he replied.
"Sit ye doon," said the grandmother, "by the spark o' fire; the
nicht 's some airy like.
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