This done they entered the cottage.

The window was small and the light dim.

A white-haired old woman was warming her hands and crooning over a wood fire.
"Eh, mother," cried Betty, "I've brought someone to sing to ye.

'Lodgin' on the Cold Ground,' do ye remember that old ditty ?" "Do I mind it?
Why, to be sure.

But who sings it now-a-days?
Nobody." "Well, ye're going to hear it, and ye'll have to say if this young miss here trolls it as well as Moll Davies used to." "What stuff ye be talkin', Betty," retorted the old woman.