“Tired!” repeated Shenac scornfully. “What with, I wonder. Yes, I am tired with staying within-doors, when there is so much to be done outside. If my mother would only let me take the wheel, that would be something.”
“But my mother is busy with it herself,” said Hamish. “Surely you do not think you can do more or better than my mother?”
“Not better, but more; twice as much in a day as she is doing now. We’ll not get our cloth by the new year, at the rate the spinning is going on, and the lads’ clothes will hardly hold together even now.” Shenac gave an impatient sigh.
“But, Shenac,” said her brother, “there is no use in fretting about it; that will do no good.”
“No; if only one could help it,” said Shenac.
“Shenac, my woman,” said the mother from the other side of the fire, “I doubt you’ll need to go to The Eleventh to-morrow for the dye-stuffs. I am not able to go so far myself, I fear.”
The townships, or towns, of that part of the country are all divided off into portions, a mile in width, called concessions; and as the little cluster of houses where the store was had no name as yet, it was called The Eleventh; and indeed, all the different localities were named from the concession in which they were found.
“There is no particular hurry about going, I suppose, mother,” Shenac answered indifferently.
“The sooner the better,” said her mother. “The things are as well here as there, and we’ll need them soon. What is to hinder you from going to-morrow?”
“If the morning is fair, I’ll need Shenac’s help at the hay, mother,” said Dan with an air.