steps, an' sing wi' th' lave o' them—I hae nae maties here, ye ken. I want auld Sawnie to lap me up in his plaidie, an' pit me on his shoulder, an' awa' to the sheep walks wi' me; an' tak' me to the tap o' Ben Rimmon, an' let me gather the bonnie purple heather. I want auld Tibbie to tak' me by the han', an' I gae wi' her to the byre, an' see her milk the coos, an' pick up the dook's eggs, an' see wha' the auld big goosie is sitting ahint the mow—oh! I maun gae, I will gae."
"Harken ye to this, my dawtit lass: Sawnie an' auld Tib are na' at the Hillside Farm the noo; they hae gaen awa'—ye wad na' fin' them there noo."
"An' wha' for nae? whar shuld they be gaen?"
"Dinna ye mind Sawnie ha' gaen tae be shepherd to Scott o' the Burnside; an' Tibbie ha' gaen to keep housie for her brither? They wad be baith awa'."
"Weel-a-weel!" said Alice, a little startled at this intelligence; "but they wad baith win bock agin, grandmither, gin we were there—they wad."
"Na', na', Alice," said the grandmother,
