"But do you really think, mother, that Mr. Anderson will allow it?"
"Lizzie, there's not a better man in Scotland—or out of it, which is more to the purpose—than Andrew Anderson! A just man he is, and a kind. He knows well that Donald is his right hand, and that if Donald is content to live with us, it's but fair that he and his wife should have their own way in their own affairs. And more than that, he's real kind and tenderhearted; and once we have Clarice here, he'll be for spoiling her well, you see if he won't. But he's certainly a wee bit touchy, times; and so I'll advise you to leave the matter alone until I'll see a good moment to get his consent. I won't forget it; and there's no time lost, for we could not move her until fine summer weather, and before that comes, I'll get Andrew's consent."
"Dear Mrs. Anderson, you are very good to me!"
"'Deed, and so I ought! My one son's wife—who'd I be good to unless just to your bonnie self, my hinnie? So cheer up now, Lizzie, and don't fret any more. We'll have Clarice on that sofa before long—mark my words, we will."
Whether old Mr. Anderson was more "touchy" than was usual with him or not, I do not know. Mrs. Anderson said that "lambing time was hard on farmer's tempers." And after lambing time, there was sickness among the cattle; and after that the grey mare had a fall, and cut her knee; and all these circumstances gave Mrs. Anderson reason for delay. But I suspect the dear old woman had made up her mind that Lizzie should not undertake this additional work until after the birth of her baby, which took place the last week in April.
Then more than a month passed before Lizzie could venture on so long a drive; so that it was fine warm summer weather when at last Donald, Lizzie, and baby set off in a vehicle known to the neighbours as "Anderson's shanderadan," a queer nondescript carriage, with a hood which could be made to cover the front seat, and a long kind of waggonette seat behind, into which Mrs. Anderson put a feather bed and a mattress, for the accommodation of Clarice.
"And mind you tell Helen, with my love, that she's not to take it amiss that I sent yon basket along wi' ye, because truly Donald eats such a hantle of food, that I'd think it a shame letting him take a young housekeeper by surprise. And bring Clarice home wi' ye, Lizzie, lass, or I'll not promise ye a welcome from me and my good-man."
Whereon her good-man grunted loudly, and was of opinion that between himself and his wife, they had put the thing very well, and said all that was needful.
Ballintra, if not a place where money was to be made, was surely a very pretty place; and so Lizzie Anderson thought as she was driven up to the door. The waters of the lovely Slaney—the only river, save one, with which I am personally acquainted, that deserves the name of a blue river; the other being either the Tamar or the Tavy, in Devonshire, and I cannot remember which of these is brown and which blue,—the blue waters of the lovely Slaney were glancing and dimpling in the summer sun, and the steep lawn, which they both met and reflected, was of the most exquisite green. A few fine old trees, beech, both green and copper, shaded the house, and were dotted here and there over the lawn; and the hawthorn, which was late that year, was still in full blossom. The house was old-fashioned and irregular, much smothered in ivy, and altogether it was a very pretty spot.