He turned round and saw standing with her back to him, and looking out at the little window, a girl, apparently the daughter of one of the neighboring hinds, as farm-servants who live in the cottages on a farm are called in Scotland. She wore a striped woolen petticoat, short enough to show her thick worsted stockings and stout little shoes that were tied close round her ankles; a striped pink-and-white cotton short-gown, as it is called, with a small tartan shawl pinned round her neck. This was her dress—the dress common to female farm-servants, which to neatness joins fitness: it is not in the way, and it gives all the muscles free room for exercise; but it is rapidly becoming a thing of the past now, the more's the pity! Her hair was all drawn behind and twisted up at the back of her head, where it was fastened by a little common horn comb: she had also a string of amber glass beads round her neck.
This girl turned round and looked at the doctor with a simple stare of curiosity, such as her class fix on a stranger.
The doctor was startled, he almost uttered a low cry of admiration: the face was perfect, heavenly, indescribable.
Bell, who was sitting up in bed supported by pillows, said, "Isn't she a bonnie lassie, doctor?"
"Hoot!" said the girl—"hoot, Bell! that's nae news. Could ye no tell us something we dinna ken?"
From some lips this might have been an impertinent remark: from hers it had the most piquant charm of simplicity.
The doctor, having recovered from his first thrill of surprise, said, "Where do you live, my good girl?"
"Wi' my faither, sir," she said simply.
"Who is your father?" he asked.
"He is ane o' our neighbors," Bell answered.