Elsie stared at her sister; it was so unlike Jane to be pining for amusement.  “I do not care for going out, I am so unfit for it.  I would rather stay at home till the time comes to go to Mrs Dunn’s.”

“No, we will not let you stay and mope at home.  If it has somewhat unsettled my strong nerves to be living as we have done, so that I feel I must have a change, what will be its effect on you to stay at Peggy’s without me?”

“Your sister would rather not go out with me,” said Francis.

“No; I have been unjust and uncharitable to you, but I hope I will not be so again.  Forgive me for the past, and I will promise good behaviour for the future.”

“If you are not too tired in the morning, would not a walk be pleasant?” said Francis.  “I want to show you what strikes me as the finest view of Edinburgh.  I do not expect Jane to appreciate it; but from your remarks on these verses, I am sure you have an eye for nature, and a soul for it.”

Elsie was pleased, and felt more kindly to her cousin than she had ever done before.  There are times when a little praise, particularly if it is felt to be deserved, does a sad heart incalculable good.  She agreed to the walk with eagerness, and looked forward to it with hope.

Chapter XIII.

Peggy’s Visitors, And Francis’ Resolution

The girls were somewhat later in rising on the morning after the party than usual, and when they got up, they found that Peggy was out on one of those errands that Jane and Elsie had been accustomed to do for her.  She had got into very good custom, from her real skill and punctuality, even in the short time that she had tried her luck in Edinburgh; and this week she had had more work than she could manage.  On these occasions she used to get the assistance of a very poor woman who lived at a considerable distance, who had once been a neighbour of her sister Bessie’s, and had been kind to Willie when he was in his last illness.  Jane, sometimes with and sometimes without Elsie, had always gone to tell this woman about the work, but on this occasion Peggy had to take the long walk herself—­not that she grudged it—­for to put half-a-crown in poor Lizzie Marr’s pocket was worth a good deal of trouble and fatigue.

She had returned about twelve o’clock, when the girls were getting ready to join their cousin in their promised walk, and just as she got to the top of the stairs, a man’s foot was heard at the bottom.  They were going for their bonnets, when a sharp tap was heard at the door, and Peggy opened it, and they beheld, not Francis, but Mr. Brandon.

“Well, Peggy,” said he, “how are you?  I thought I could not be mistaken in those elbows.  I have followed you from Prince’s Street all this long way, but you would never turn round, and I could not outstrip you, for you know we bushmen are no great walkers, and you always were a wonderful ‘Walker’ in every sense of the word.  And how are you again, Peggy?”