Do you mind how when you were but a bairn you used to say, "Wait till I'm a man, and you'll never have a reason for greeting again ?"' I remembered.
'You used to come running into the house to say, "There's a proud dame going down the Marywellbrae in a cloak that is black on one side and white on the other; wait till I'm a man, and you'll have one the very same." And when I lay on gey hard beds you said, "When I'm a man you'll lie on feathers." You saw nothing bonny, you never heard of my setting my heart on anything, but what you flung up your head and cried, "Wait till I'm a man." You fair shamed me before the neighbours, and yet I was windy, too.

And now it has all come true like a dream.

I can call to mind not one little thing I ettled for in my lusty days that hasna been put into my hands in my auld age; I sit here useless, surrounded by the gratification of all my wishes and all my ambitions, and at times I'm near terrified, for it's as if God had mista'en me for some other woman.' 'Your hopes and ambitions were so simple,' I would say, but she did not like that.

'They werena that simple,' she would answer, flushing.
I am reluctant to leave those happy days, but the end must be faced, and as I write I seem to see my mother growing smaller and her face more wistful, and still she lingers with us, as if God had said, 'Child of mine, your time has come, be not afraid.' And she was not afraid, but still she lingered, and He waited, smiling.

I never read any of that last book to her; when it was finished she was too heavy with years to follow a story.