The saut-backet, or salt-bucket, stood at the end of the fender, which was half of an old cart-wheel.

Here Cree worked, whistling "Ower the watter for Chairlie" to make Mysy think that he was as gay as a mavis.

Mysy grew querulous in her old age, and up to the end she thought of poor, done Cree as a handsome gallant.

Only by weaving far on into the night could Cree earn as much as six shillings a week.

He began at six o'clock in the morning, and worked until midnight by the light of his cruizey.