“I declare that’s all quite true,” said the more temporising Grizzy; “and certainly our girls are not in the least taken up about their dress, poor things! which is a great comfort.  At the same time, I’m sure it’s no wonder your Ladyship should be taken up about yours, for certainly that pelisse is most beautiful.  Nobody can deny that; and I daresay it is the very newest fashion.  At the same time, I’m just afraid that it’s rather too delicate, and that it might perhaps get a little dirty on our roads; for although, in general, our roads are quite remarkable for being always dry, which is a great comfort in the country, yet you know the very best roads of course must be wet sometimes.  And there’s a very bad step just at the door almost, which Glenfern has been always speaking about getting mended.  But, to be sure, he has so many things to think about that it’s no wonder he forgets sometimes; but I daresay he will get it done very soon now.”

The prospect of the road being mended produced no better effect than the quotation from Thomson’s “Seasons.”  It was now Miss Nicky’s turn.

“I’m afraid your Ladyship will frighten our stirks and stots with your finery.  I assure you they are not accustomed to see such fine figures; and”—­putting her hand out at the window—­“I think it’s spitting already.” [1]

[1] A common expression in Scotland to signify slight rain.

All three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady Juliana to put on something warmer and more wiselike.

“I positively have nothing,” cried she, wearied with their importunities, “and I shan’t get any winter things now till I return to town.  My roquelaire does very well for the carriage.”

The acknowledgment at the beginning of this speech was enough.  All three instantly disappeared like the genii of Aladin’s lamp, and, like that same person, presently returned, loaded with what, in their eyes, were precious as the gold of Arabia.  One displayed a hard worsted shawl, with a flower-pot at each corner; another held up a tartan cloak, with a hood; and a third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined with flannel; while one and all showered down a variety of old bonnets, fur tippets, hair soles, clogs, pattens, and endless et ceteras.  Lady Juliana shrank with disgust from these “delightful haps,” and resisted all attempts to have them forced upon her, declaring, in a manner which showed her determined to have her own way, that she would either go out as she was or not go out at all.  The aunts were therefore obliged to submit, and the party proceeded to what was termed the high road, though a stranger would have sought in vain for its pretensions to that title.  Far as the eye could reach—­and that was far enough—­not a single vehicle could be descried on it, though its deep ruts showed that it was well frequented by carts.  The scenery might have had charms for Ossian, but it had none for Lady Juliana, who would rather have been entangled