on Saturdays, and sometimes his loom was silent half the day. Sam’l felt that Sanders’s was the kindness of a friend for a dying man.     

       It was to be a penny wedding, and Lisbeth Fargus said it was the delicacy that made Sam’l superintend the fitting up of the barn by deputy. Once he came to see it in person, but he looked so ill that Sanders had to see him home. This was on the Thursday afternoon, and the wedding was fixed for Friday.     

       “Sanders, Sanders,” said Sam’l, in a voice strangely unlike his own,       “it’ll a’ be ower by this time the morn.”      

       “It will,” said Sanders.     

       “If I had only kent her langer,” continued Sam’l.     

       “It wid hae been safer,” said Sanders.     

       “Did ye see the yallow floor in Bell’s bonnet?” asked the accepted swain.     

       “Ay,” said Sanders, reluctantly.     

       “I’m dootin’—I’m sair dootin’ she’s but a flichty, light-hearted crittur after a’.”      

       “I had aye my suspeecions o’ ‘t,” said Sanders.     

       “Ye hae kent her langer than me,” said Sam’l.     

       “Yes,” said Sanders, “but there’s nae getting’ at the heart o’ women. Man Sam’l, they’re desperate cunnin’.”      

       “I’m dootin’ ‘t; I’m sair dootin’ ‘t.”      

       “It’ll be a warnin’ to ye, Sam’l, no to be in sic a hurry i’ the futur’,”        said Sanders.     

       Sam’l groaned.     

       “Ye’ll be gaein’ up to the manse to arrange wi’ the minister the morn’s mornin’,” continued Sanders, in a subdued voice.     

       Sam’l looked wistfully at his friend.     

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