Its frae bein' sae muckle wi' Maister Cosmo, I'm thinkin'-- ever sin' he was a bairn, ye ken, sir; for bein' twa year aul'er nor him, I was a kin' o' a wee nursie til him; an' ever sin' syne we hae had nae secrets frae ane anither; an' ye ken what he's like--aye wantin' to win at the boddom o' things, an' that's infeckit me, sae 'at I canna rist whan I see onybody un'erstan'in' a thing, till I set aboot gettin' a grip o' 't mysel'." "A very good infection to take, Agnes," replied the master, with a smile of thorough pleasure, "and one that will do more for you than the cow-pox.

Come to me as often as you can--and as you like.

I think I shall be able to tell you some things to make you happier." "'Deed, sir.

I'm in no want o' happiness! O' that I hae full mair nor I deserve; but I want a heap for a' that.

I canna say what it is, for the hoonger is for what I haena." "Another of God's children!" said the master to himself, "and full of the groanings of the spirit! The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them." He often quoted scripture as the people of the New Testament did--not much minding the original application of the words.