at,' said Liz Hepburn to her brother next time he came home, 'what kind o' a lassie is thon?'
It was a question difficult for Walter to answer, and, Scotch-like, he solved it by putting another.
'What do you think of her?'
'I dinna ken; she's no' like ither folk.'
'But you liked her, Liz?' said Walter, with quite evident anxiety.
'Oh ay; but she's queer. How does she get on wi' Skinny?'
'Well enough. I believe he likes her, Liz, if he would let on.'
Liz made a grimace.
'I daursay, if he can like onything. I telt her my mind on the business plain, an' offered to get her into our mill.'
'Oh, Liz, you might have had more sense! Her work in a mill!' cried Walter, with more energy than elegance.