Rose shrugged her shoulders.
“Oh! I’ll go, and I’ll tell Mrs Nasmyth how it happened, and that it was my fault and the cat’s. Mrs Snow,” said she, presenting herself at the window, “did you hear what Hannah has been saying? I have broken Grandma Snow’s yeast jug into forty pieces, and I am to go and confess to Emily, and get some yeast.”
“I thought it was the cat that did it; though, doubtless, it was your fault not putting it in its place. However, there is no great harm done, so that you get more yeast to Hannah.”
“And let Emily know that it is my fault and not Hannah’s that more yeast is needed. Graeme, will you come and have a walk this bonny day?”
“You can go and do Hannah’s errand, now, and I will stay with Mrs Snow, and we will walk together later,” said Graeme.
“And you might bring wee Rosie home with you, if her mother will spare her, and if she wants to come. But there is no doubt of her wishing to come with you.”
“Is anything the matter with your sister, that you follow her with such troubled e’en?” asked Mrs Snow, after a moment’s silence.
“Troubled e’en!” repeated Graeme. “No, I don’t think there is anything the matter with her. Do you? Why should you think there is anything the matter with her, Janet?”
“My dear, I was only asking you; and it was because of the look that you sent after her—a look that contradicts your words—a thing that doesna often happen with you, be it said.”
“Did I look troubled? I don’t think there is any reason for it on Rosie’s account—any that can be told. I mean I can only guess at any cause of trouble she may have. Just for a minute, now and then, I have felt a little anxious, perhaps; but it is not at all because I think there is anything seriously wrong with Rosie, or indeed anything that will not do her good rather than harm. But oh, Janet! it is sad that we cannot keep all trouble away from those we love.”