very likely to follow her own judgment, yet she wanted some one to advise her to do what she had already determined on.
She put on her best dress and bonnet and went down-stairs. Steve was sitting in the chimney-corner, serenely smoking a long clay pipe. On the table at his elbow there was a jar of tobacco, his violin and his specimens. His face beamed with the luxury of anticipated pleasure, yet as soon as he saw that Sarah was going out he said, "Wait a bit Sarah; I'm none too tired to walk wi' thee."
"Nay, I won't hev thee, Steve. I'm going by mysen to-night, lad."
His nature was too easy and careless to ask where. He laid down his pipe and took up his violin, and as she went up the street, she heard him playing "The Bonnie House o' Airlie." In some subtle way the strains made an unpleasant impression on her, and she walked rapidly onward, never stopping until she reached a quarter of the town where there were no mills, but many squares and terraces of comfortable houses. She unfastened the gate of one set in a small garden, and went in. The main path was lined with hollyhocks of every color, and as
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