all my plans and return to Scotland.  He told me that the grandmother was dead, and that the old man, who never had half the gumption of his wife, was not able to control the five youngsters; so that they were getting out their heads at no allowance.  Tam, in particular, he said, was a most camsteery callant; but the old man, he said, was fairly off all work, and not one of his own bairns were either able or willing to help him, and I knew that he had an awful horror of the sea.  So I let my shop, and sold the stock for time; and indeed the payments have no been owre regular, and the man that took it is still in my debt.  I found the grandfather and the bairns were really as Robbie had said, and I have had my own work to set things to rights.  They were in debt, too, though I had sent them double the money after I had the shop than before; but they just thought that a rich auntie in Australia was a mine of wealth, and the folk very unwisely gave them trust whenever they asked it.  But they were doing very weel at the school, and I find it a hantle cheaper to give them learning here than in Melbourne; so it answers me better to bide here than to take them out, even if grandfather would agree.  He was good to me and mine in my straits, and I cannot think to leave the old man now.

“But what with the rent and the schooling, and one thing and another, I found that the rent of my bit shop would not pay all expenses, so I took in washing and dressing for the folk about Swinton.  I was aye clever at it, and I got a great inkling about clear-starching and fine dressing from that Mrs. Bennett, at Mr. Phillips’s station, for she was a particular good laundress.  A body learns at all hands if one has only the will.  And ye see, now, it seemed better for Tam and the rest that I should try my luck in a bigger place, and I hope I may not repent of it.

“That’s all my story.  It’s no much tell; but yet, ye see that none of my brothers have been burdened with my bairns.  I have done it all myself.”

Jane sat silent a few moments after Peggy had finished her narrative, and then thanked her gravely and earnestly for it.  Elsie, too, had been much interested in the adventures of this clever, upright woman, and was only sorry it could not be available—­neither incident nor sentiment—­for her poetry.

“Now, I have kept you up long enough, young ladies.  If what I have said gives you any heart, I will be glad.  I hope you will sleep well, and have lucky dreams; so good-night.”

Chapter X.

Elsie’s Literary Venture, and Its Success