Arthur, who was standing by, could not resist repeating a story he had heard Colin Cameron tell his father. An English gentleman came down to look at a Highland property with the intention of buying it, but was rather taken aback by finding the overseer and a party of workers busy getting in their hay quite in the latter end of the year.

"Oh! but of course," he said, "this is your second crop, no doubt ?”

"Ou, ay, sir, it is the second crop," said the grieve; and when the gentleman passed on and one of the men asked him—

"Hoo could ye tell the laird siccan a lee?"

"It wasna a lee at a'," he retorted. "Ye ken, Sandie, we didna get the hay in last crop till Januar'!"

Both the old men grinned, sorely as Dugald felt his responsibility, and weary as were his tramps morning and evening.

"That'll maybe be our case, I'm thinking; but, Mr. Arthur, sir, you and Mr. Philip might have good sport wi' the blackcocks the noo. I'm fain whiles to get them herded off the stooks by the bairns. They are as bad as a flight of craws"-the name he always would persist in giving to the rooks, in spite of Mrs. Leycester's deprecation, who thought a crow must mean a bird of carrion, and resented this insult to her favourites.

This hint of Dugald's being taken to Phil, he and Arthur had some excellent sport, both very early in the morning and again about sunset, stalking these majestic black fellows, their sable plumage contrasting so finely

with the crimson circles round their eyes and the snowy beauty of their lyre-shaped tails.

But though the weather might be wild without, within all was bright and cheerful; pleasure and duty had never been allowed to trench upon each other; so all this time the lessons went steadily on, with the sewing-class at its allotted times and the school on Sunday mornings. The little Highlanders were beginning to improve greatly. Their fingers at length took more kindly to the needle, their voices sounded sweetly in their songs and hymns, and they seemed to understand better and take greater interest in the stories that were read to them.

Mademoiselle was invaluable in the sewing department, she sewed so beautifully, and her patience in teaching and ingenuity in turning to good account every scrap of material, whether old or new, were so great that one could not help learning neatness and nicety from her.

In addition, the girls found plenty to do in arranging their winter wardrobes, with the combined assistance of mamma and Freeman. The glen tailor came in for a few days and completed some suits of homespun for Mr. Leycester and the boys. The web of cloth was bought from Mrs. M'Alpine: it was made from wool of her own spinning, carded at the mill in Balintrae, and woven by one of the cottars at the Clachan, whose loom was in constant requisition by the notable mothers of the district. She had even dyed it herself a sort of heather mixture with herbs of her own selecting.

The boys found plenty of occupation in the garden There were apples and pears to be stored in the

tower.

fruit-room, roots of all kinds to be placed in dry sand, seeds and bulbs to be sorted and put by, and Jemmie's old-world talk to amuse them all the while. Besides the blackcock-stalking late and early, they had some capital ratting in the stack-yard, which tried the prowess of Phil's new terrier "Uiske," a gift from the rabbit-catcher, as knowing a little beast as ever stood on four short, crooked legs and darted bright glances from a mop of brindled hair.

And though the storms might rage, not for that did the girls lose their exercise, but many a good run they had between the drenching showers, battling with the wind to see the sea come in at high tide, tearing round the point, then, meeting a squall from the hill-side, the tops of the waves would be torn off in spindrift, then the air would grow thick with flying foam, and sky and sea would intermingle, till in the roar of elements distinction was impossible.

When the foul weather fairly cleared with a tremendous three days' blow, in which the wind veered round from south-west to north-east, there came another spell of sunshine, something akin to the "petit été de Saint Michel."

How soft and ethereal then felt the air, almost returned to the warmth and brightness of summer! The heather had faded, it is true, and the undergrowth of fern, the bracken especially, that had passed through every shade of green from the pale tint of the green unfolding frond to the delicate blue-green which can only be matched by the exotic Lycopodium, then towering to a height of six feet

or more, at last assumed its deadest, densest shade, now lay broken, withered, trampled underfoot in the covers, beautiful still, of that red-orange shade which makes the hill-side, at a distance and in certain effects of light and shade, look all aflame with gold and crimson. I have seen an inland loch, its pale blue waters circled like an aquamarine in a gorgeous setting of the dead Osmunda, that had fringed it proudly in summer, and now adorned it as greatly in its autumnal decay.

CHAPTER XIX.

AN ADVENTURE IN THE YACHT.

NE morning in the very beginning of October Mrs. Leycester came into the room where the children were just putting away their books,

and said,

"Edith, dear, I have just had such a kind note from Craigmore, and they beg so hard for you to be allowed to spend a week with Esmé that I think I must consent."

"But how am I to get there, darling mother ?" asked Edith.

"The doctor brought the note, and left it as he passed with the message that he would take you back with him in the evening if you were allowed to go."

"Oh, how delightful! and how kind of him to say he would take me!" and they all began to bustle about to help Edith with her small preparations. They were completed long before the doctor made his appearance, so Edith had the additional charm of a night journey with her friend; there was no moon, but the lamps gave light sufficient to cross the hills in safety, and Edith