“Granny,” said Effie to Mrs Grindlay, after a pause, “tell us a pretty story to dream upon.”
“Did I ever tell you the story of But—but—but?”
“No, never. Do tell us about ‘But—But—But,’ and begin, ‘Once upon a time.’”
“Well, then, once upon a time there lived, far away up on the top of a mountain, a little old, old woman, and this little old woman had a very lovely young daughter, who lived with her in a cave on the mountain top. And one day her mother said,—
“‘Dear love, all the provisions are done. I must go away down to the plains and buy some. I have no money, but shall take a small bagful of precious stones.’
“So away she went, leaning on her stick and carrying a basket. She looked very feeble, her old cloak was ragged and worn, and, as she crept along, she kept saying to herself, ‘but—but—but.’
“Well, at last she got down to the village, and entered a grocer’s shop.
“‘What can I get for you, ma’am?’ said the grocer.
“‘I want some nice ham, and some nice eggs, and some fresh butter. I have no money—but—but—but—’
“‘Oh! get out of here with your “buts,”’ cried the man. ‘Who would trust the like of you, with your old age and your rags?’