"An' that minds me that they've putt the wee laddie Splint into blue tights wi' bra.s.s b.u.t.tons. He just looks like an uncanny sort o'

speeder! It's a daft-like dress for onything but a puggy, but the bairn's as prood o't as if it was quite reasonable. It maitters little what he putts on, hooiver, for he wad joke an' cut capers, baith pheesical an' intellectual, I verily believe, if he was gaun to be hanged!

"My faither-in-law to be, Sam Blake, says he'll come to Scotland for the wadd'n, but he'll no' stop. He's that fond o' the sea that he canna leave 't. It's my opeenion that he'll no' rest till he gits a pirit's knife in his breed-baskit. Mair's the peety, for he's a fine man. But the best news I've got to tell 'e, mither, is, that Colonel Brentwood an' his wife an' daughter an' her guidman--a sensible sort o' chiel, though he _is_ English--are a' comin' doon to spend the autumn on the Braes o' Yarrow.

"Noo, I'll stop. Susy's waitin' for me, an' sends her love.--Yer affectionate son, DAVID LAIDLAW."

We must take the liberty now, good reader, of directing your attention to another time and place.

And, first, as regards time. One day, three weeks after the events which have just been narrated, Mrs Brentwood took Susan Blake through a stained gla.s.s door out upon a leaded roof and bade her look about her.

The roof was not high up, however. It only covered the kitchen, which was a projection at the back of the Colonel's mansion.

Susan, somewhat surprised, looked inquiringly in the lady's face.

"A fine view, is it not?" asked Mrs Brentwood.

"Very fine indeed," said Susy, and she was strictly correct, for the back of the house commanded an extensive view of one of the most beautiful parts of Hampstead Heath.

"Does it not remind you, Susan, a little, a very little, of the views from the garret-garden?" asked the lady, with a curious expression in her handsome eyes.

"Well, hardly!" replied Susan, scarce able to repress a smile. "You see, there is no river or shipping, and one misses the chimney-pots!"

"Chimney-pots!" exclaimed Mrs Brentwood, "why, what do you call these?"

pointing to a row of one-storey stables not far off, the roofs of which were variously ornamented with red pots and iron zigzag pipes. "As to the river, don't you see the glimmer of that sheet of water through the trees in the distance, a pond or ca.n.a.l it is, I'm not sure which, but I'm quite sure that the flag-staff of our eccentric naval neighbour is sufficiently suggestive of shipping, is it not?"

"Well, madam, if one tries to make believe _very_ much--"

"Ah, Susan, I see you have not a powerful imagination! Perhaps it is as well! Now, I have brought you here to help me with a plot which is to be a great secret. You know it is arranged that dear old nurse is to spend the summer on the Braes of Yarrow with the Laidlaws, and the winter in London with me. So I want you to fit up this roof of the kitchen _exactly_ in the way you arranged the garden on the roof at Cherub Court. I will send a carpenter to measure the place for flower-boxes, and our gardener will furnish you with whatever seeds you may require. Now, remember, _exactly_ the same, even to the rustic chair if you can remember it."

You may be very sure that Susy entered with right goodwill into this little plot. She had been temporarily engaged by Mrs Brentwood as lady's-maid, so that she might have present employment and a home before her marriage, and then travel free of expense with the family to Scotland, where she should be handed over to her rightful owner. The office of lady's-maid was, however, a mere sinecure, so the bride had plenty of time to devote to the garden. Old Liz, meanwhile, was carefully confined to another part of the house so that she might not discover the plot, and the tiger, from whom no secrets could by any possibility be kept, was forbidden to "blab" on pain of instant death and dismissal.

"Now, Da-a-a-vid," remarked that Blue Spider, when he communicated the secret to _him_, "mum's the word. If you mentions it, the kernel's family will bu'st up. I will return to the streets from vich I came.

Trumps, _alias_ Rodgers, to the den hout of vich 'e was 'auled. Susan will take the wail and retire to a loonatic asylum, an' Da-a-a-vid Laidlaw will be laid low for the rest of 'is mortial career."

"Ne'er fash yer heed about me, Tammy, my man, I'm as close as an eyster."

We pa.s.s now from the far south to the other side of the Borderland.

Great Bawbylon is far behind us. The breezy uplands around tell that we have reached the Braes of Yarrow. A huge travelling carriage is slowly toiling up the side of a hill. Inside are Colonel and Mrs Brentwood, Rosa and chimney-pot Liz. Beside the driver sits Trumps in travelling costume. In the rumble are Susan Blake and Tommy Splint. Rosa's husband and Sam Blake are to follow in a few days.

"Oh, what a lovely scene!" exclaimed Susy, as the carriage gained the summit of an eminence, and pulled up to breathe the horses.

"Yaas. Not so bad--for Scotland," said the tiger languidly.

"And what a pretty cottage!" added Susan, pointing to an eminence just beyond that on which they had halted, where a long low whitewashed dwelling lay bathed in sunshine.

"Yaas. And, I say, Susy, yonder is a native," said Tommy, becoming suddenly animated, "and--well--I do believe, _without_ a kilt! But he's got the reg'lar orthodox shepherd's--whew!"

A prolonged whistle ended the boy's sentence, as he glanced quickly in Susan's face. The flushed cheeks told eloquently that she also had made a discovery; and the rapid strides of the "native" showed that he was likewise affected in a similar way.

The Colonel's head,--thrust out at the carriage window, and exclaiming, "Why, Dora, we've arrived! Here is Mr Laidlaw himself!"--completed, as it were, the _tableau vivant_.

Another moment and hands were being heartily shaken with the insides.

But David did not linger. Nodding pleasantly to the tiger, he held up both hands. Being so tall, he just managed to reach those of Susan, as she stood up in the rumble.

"Jump!" he said; "ye needna fear, my la.s.sie."

Susan jumped, and was made to alight on Scottish soil like a feather of eider-down. Laidlaw stooped, apparently to whisper something in the girl's ear, but, to the unspeakable delight of the observant tiger, he failed to get past the mouth, and whispered it there!

"Go it, Da-a-a-vid!" exclaimed the urchin, with a patronising wink and a broad smile.

"Look there, Susy," said Laidlaw, pointing to the sun-bathed cottage.

"Home?" asked the maiden, with an inquiring glance.

"Hame!" responded David. "Mither is waiting for 'e there. Do ye see the track across the field where the burn rins? It's a short cut. The coach'll have to gang roond by the brig. Rin, la.s.sie!"

He released Susy, who sprang down the bank, crossed the streamlet by a plank bridge, and ran into the cottage, where she found Mrs Laidlaw in the pa.s.sage, with eager eyes, but labouring under powerful self-restraint.

"Mother!" exclaimed Susy, flinging her arms round the stout old woman's neck.

"Eh!--my bonnie wee doo!" said Mrs Laidlaw, as she looked kindly down on the little head and stroked the fair hair with her toil-worn hands, while a venerable old man stood beside her, looking somewhat imbecile, and blowing his nose.

Just then the carriage rolled up to the door, and Mrs Laidlaw, leaving her "auld man" for a few minutes to do the honours of the house, retired to her chamber, and there on her knees confessed, thankfully, that she, like her son, had been effectually conquered by a "waux doll!"

Reader, what more can we say? Is it necessary to add that, the two princ.i.p.als in the business being well pleased, everybody else was satisfied? We think not. But it may not be uninteresting to state that, from that auspicious day, a regular system of annual visitation was established between Bawbylon and the Braes of Yarrow, which held good for many a year; one peculiarity of the visitation being that the Bawbylonians and their progeny revelled on the braes chiefly in summer, while the Yarrowites, with their bairns, always took their southern flight in winter. Thus our two old women, Mrs Laidlaw and chimney-pot Liz--who fought rather shy of each other at first, but became mutual admirers at last--led, as it were, a triple life; now on the sunny slopes and amid the sweet influences of the braes, anon in the smoke and the unsavoury odours of the slums, and sometimes amid the refinements and luxury of the "West End," in all of which situations they were fain to confess that "the ways of G.o.d are wonderful and past finding out."

Of course David Laidlaw did not fail to redeem his promise to revisit the thieves' den, and many a man and youth was he the means of plucking from the jaws of spiritual death during his occasional and frequent visits to London--in which work he was ably seconded by Tommy Splint, when that volatile spirit grew up to manhood. And among their coadjutors none were more helpful in the work of bringing souls to Christ than Mrs Rampy and her bosom-friend Mrs Blathers.

Strange to say, Liz came to her end in a garret after all. On a raw November day she went, under the care of Susy, to visit an old friend near Cherub Court, in a garret not very unlike her old home. While there she was struck down. There was no pain--apparently no disease; simply a sudden sinking of the vital powers. They laid the dear old woman on her friend's bed, and in half-an-hour she had pa.s.sed away, while the faithful Susy held her hand and whispered words from the Master in her ear. Thus old Liz, having finished her grand work on earth, was transplanted from the Garret in the slums to the Garden of the Lord.

THE END.