And the young stranger stood revealed in all her loveliness and sorrow.
She was a young, slight, graceful creature, with a thin, pale face, dark hair and dark eyebrows, long, black eye-lashes, and large, soft, gray eyes, so full of pleading sadness that their glances went straight to the heart of Jenny Birney. It was a child’s face; but ah, woe! it was a matron’s form revealed there.
“Wae-sooks!” exclaimed the good wife in consternation, as she gazed upon the young thing, and saw that, child-like as she looked, she had been married, or——ought to have been.
Again the little, pale hands went up and covered the little, woe-forn face.
“Sit ye down,” said Mrs. Birney, kindly. “Ye are no able to stand.”
And she drew her own low, cushioned chair to the chimney corner, and with gentle force pushed the poor child into it. And then she took down her little black tea-pot from the corner cupboard and began to make tea.
Mr. Birney watched the process in strong disapprobation.
His wife raised a deprecating glance to his face, murmuring, in a low tone:
“We maun be pitiful, Andy! for our poor lost Katy’s sake, we maun be pitiful.”
He answered that appeal by growling forth the words: