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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

"
"Na, grannie, I want nae fire," said the girl. "I hae run a' the
ro'd to get a glimp' o' ye 'afore the week was oot."
"Hoo 's things gaein' up at the castel?"
"Ow, sic-like 's usual--only the hoosekeeper 's some dowy, an' that
puts mair upo' the lave o' 's: whan she's weel, she's no ane to
spare hersel'--or ither fowk aither!--I wadna care, gien she wud but
lippen til a body!" concluded young Eppy, with a toss of her head.
"We maunna speyk evil o' dignities, yoong Eppy!" said the cobbler,
with a twinkle in his eye.
"Ca' ye mistress Brookes a dignity, gran'father!" said the girl,
with a laugh that was nowise rude.
"I do," he answered. "Isna she ower ye? Haena ye to du as she tells
ye? 'Atween her an' you that's eneuch: she's ane o' the dignities
spoken o'."
"I winna dispute it. But, eh, it's queer wark yon'er!"
"Tak ye care, yoong Eppy! we maun haud oor tongues aboot things
committit til oor trust. Ane peyt to serve in a hoose maunna tre't
the affairs o' that hoose as gien they war her ain."
"It wad be weel gien a'body about the hoose was as partic'lar as ye
wad hae me, gran'father!"
"Hoo's my lord, lass?"
"Ow, muckle the same--aye up the stair an' doon the stair the
forepairt o' the nicht, an' maist inveesible a' day."
The girl cast a shy glance now and then at Donal, as if she claimed
him on her side, though the older people must be humoured.


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