“She’s expecting a veesitor, methinks,” said Corp.  This was his bright day.

“Ay,” answered Agnes, “but is’t a man-body, or just a woman-body?”

Leaving the rebels in the Lair stunned by Victoria’s latest move, we now return to Thrums, where Miss Ailie’s excited state had indeed been the talk of many.  Even the gossips, however, had underestimated her distress of mind, almost as much as they misunderstood its cause.  You must listen now (will you?) to so mild a thing as the long thin romance of two maiden ladies and a stout bachelor, all beginning to be old the day the three of them first drank tea together, and that was ten years ago.

Miss Ailie and Miss Kitty, you may remember, were not natives of Thrums.  They had been born and brought up at Redlintie, and on the death of their parents they had remained there, the gauger having left them all his money, which was just sufficient to enable them to live like ladies, if they took tiny Magenta Cottage, and preferred an inexperienced maid.  At first their life was very quiet, the walk from eleven to one for the good of fragile Miss Kitty’s health its outstanding feature.  When they strolled together on the cliffs, Miss Ailie’s short thick figure, straight as an elvint, cut the wind in two, but Miss Kitty was swayed this way and that, and when she shook her curls at the wind, it blew them roguishly in her face, and had another shot at them, as soon as they were put to rights.  If the two walked by the shore (where the younger sometimes bathed her feet, the elder keeping a sharp eye on land and water), the sea behaved like the wind, dodging Miss Ailie’s ankles and snapping playfully at Miss Kitty’s.  Thus even the elements could distinguish between the sisters, who nevertheless had so much in common that at times Miss Ailie would look into her mirror and sigh to think that some day Miss Kitty might be like this.  How Miss Ailie adored Miss Kitty!  She trembled with pleasure if you said Miss Kitty was pretty, and she dreamed dreams in which she herself walked as bridesmaid only.  And just as Miss Ailie could be romantic, Miss Kitty, the romantic, could be prim, and the primness was her own as much as the curls, but Miss Ailie usually carried it for her, like a cloak in case of rain.

Not often have two sweeter women grown together on one stem.  What were the men of Redlintie about?  The sisters never asked each other this question, but there were times when, apparently without cause, Miss Ailie hugged Miss Kitty vehemently, as if challenging the world, and perhaps Miss Kitty understood.

Thus a year or more passed uneventfully, until the one romance of their lives befell them.  It began with the reappearance in Redlintie of Magerful Tarn, who had come to torment his father into giving him more money, but, finding he had come too late, did not harass the sisters.  This is perhaps the best thing that can be told of him, and, as if he knew this, he had often told it himself to Jean Myles, without