"I've done nothing wrong," she said, and then added after a moment, "If there's anything wrong it's no' my fault."
"But there is something wrong. Oh, Lily! trust your mother. Who would you tell if you did not tell me? My lass," said Elizabeth, passionately, "you're like myself over again; and I know what it is. Oh, Lily! trust to your mother. Nobody's angry at you; nobody says a word against you, but—what's wrong?"
To this Lily for some time would answer nothing. She hung her beautiful head; she folded hems in her apron; but she would not speak. By-and-by, however, by judicious abandonment of the solemnity of her first address, Elizabeth obtained a response. "It's nothing wrong at all," Lily said, pouting; "it's—it's the lads—and the gentlemen——"
"The lads—I'm not afraid for the lads, Lily."
"I daresay no'," said Lily, with another toss of her head.
"But the gentlemen—that's another story. What have they to do with the like of you? They have ladies of their own kind to spend their time with. What business have they to come and vex and trouble a simple lass like you?"
"Oh, they do no harm," said Lily, with a conscious smile upon her face.
"They canna but do harm," said her mother. "Oh, Lily! if I could but tell you! Their ways are not like common folks' ways. You'll never bide an honest lad coming courting to you—a good lad that will work for you and give you a house of your own."
"That's what our forewoman says; as if I wanted a man and a house, and all that! I'm young yet, and why should I not have my freedom like the rest?"
In Lily's sphere it was thought quite innocent and natural that a girl should have her freedom, and see the world, as well as a young man, before she settled down. The wander-year was a sacred right to all.