I have some braid 'at would do fine for the front, but the buttons would be sax-pence." "Ye're sure o' that ?" "I ken fine, for I got Leeby to price the things in the shop." "Ay, but it maun be ill to shape the cloaks richt.

There was a queer cut aboot that ane Peter Dickie's new wife had on." "Queer cut or no queer cut," said Jess, "I took the shape o' My Hobart's ane the day she was here at her tea, an' I could mak the identical o't for sax and sax." "I dinna believe't," said Hendry, but when he and I were alone he told me, "There's no a doubt she could mak it.

Ye heard her say she had ta'en the shape?
Ay, that shows she's rale set on a cloak." Had Jess known that Hendry had been saving up for months to buy her material for a cloak, she would not have let him do it.

She could not know, however, for all the time he was scraping together his pence, he kept up a ring-ding-dang about her folly.

Hendry gave Jess all the wages he weaved, except threepence weekly, most of which went in tobacco and snuff.