“Could ye no’ try Mysie, too?” he asked, breaking in anxiously.  “She’s a guid worker, an’ she’ll be able to pick as many stanes as the weemen.  Willn’t ye, Mysie?” And he turned to the girl for corroboration with assurance.

As Mysie nodded, Walker saw a hint of tears in the girl’s eyes, and the quivering of the tiny mouth; and as there is a soft spot in all men’s hearts, even he had sympathy, for he understood what refusal meant.

“Weel, I micht gie her a trial,” he said, “but she’ll hae to work awfu’ hard,” and he spoke as one conferring an especial concession upon the girl.

“Oh, she’ll work hard enough,” said Robert.  “Mysie’s a guid worker, an’ you’ll see ...”

“Oh, then,” said Walker hurriedly breaking in upon Robert’s outburst of agreement, “ye can both come oot the morn, and I’ll try and put ye both up.”

“How muckle pay will we get?” asked Robert, who was now feeling his importance, and felt that this was after all the main point to be considered.

“Well, we gie laddies one an’ a penny,” replied Walker, still smiling amusedly at the boy’s eagerness, “an’ lasses are aye paid less than callants.  But it’s all big lasses we hae, an’ they get one an’ tippence.  I’ll gie Mysie a shillin’ to begin wi’,” and he turned away as if that settled the matter, and was about to close the door.

“But if she picks as many stanes as a laddie, will ye gie her the same pay as me?” interrupted Robert, not wishing the interview to end without a definite promise of payment.

“She’s gey wee,” replied Walker, “an’ she canna’ expect as much as a laddie,” and he looked at Mysie, as if measuring her with a critical eye to assess her value.

“But if she does as muckle work, would ye gie her the same money?” eagerly questioned the boy, and Mysie felt that there was no one surely so brave as Robert, nor so good, and she looked at him with gratitude in her eyes.

“Very weel,” said Walker, not desiring to prolong the interview.  “Come oot the morn, an’ I’ll gie ye both one an’ a penny.”

“Six an’ sixpence a week,” said Mysie, as they tramped home.  “My, that’s a lot o’ money, Rab, isn’t it?”

“Ay, it’s a guid lot, Mysie,” he replied, “but we’ll hae to work awfu’ hard, or we’ll no’ get it.  Guid nicht!” And so the children parted, feeling that the world was about to be good to them, and all their thought of care was bounded by six and sixpence a week.

Mysie was glad to tell the result of the whole interview to her parents.  She was full of it, and could talk of nothing else as she worked about the house that night.  Her mother had been in delicate health for a long time, and so Mysie had most of the housework to do.  Matthew Maitland and his wife, Jenny, were pleased at the result, and gave Robert due credit for his part—­a credit that Mysie was delighted to hear from them.

The next morning the two children went to work, when children of their years ought to have been still in bed dreaming their little dreams.