CHAPTER SIXTH.
-- Many great ones Would part with half their states, to have the plan And credit to beg in the first style.
Beggar's Bush.
Old Edie was stirring with the lark, and his first inquiry was after Steenie and the pocket-book.

The young fisherman had been under the necessity of attending his father before daybreak, to avail themselves of the tide, but he had promised that, immediately on his return, the pocket-book, with all its contents, carefully wrapped up in a piece of sail-cloth, should be delivered by him to Ringan Aikwood, for Dousterswivel, the owner.
The matron had prepared the morning meal for the family, and, shouldering her basket of fish, tramped sturdily away towards Fairport.
The children were idling round the door, for the day was fair and sun-shiney.

The ancient grandame, again seated on her wicker-chair by the fire, had resumed her eternal spindle, wholly unmoved by the yelling and screaming of the children, and the scolding of the mother, which had preceded the dispersion of the family.

Edie had arranged his various bags, and was bound for the renewal of his wandering life, but first advanced with due courtesy to take his leave of the ancient crone.
"Gude day to ye, cummer, and mony ane o' them.

I will be back about the fore-end o'har'st, and I trust to find ye baith haill and fere." "Pray that ye may find me in my quiet grave," said the old woman, in a hollow and sepulchral voice, but without the agitation of a single feature.
"Ye're auld, cummer, and sae am I mysell; but we maun abide His will-- we'll no be forgotten in His good time." "Nor our deeds neither," said the crone: "what's dune in the body maun be answered in the spirit." "I wot that's true; and I may weel tak the tale hame to mysell, that hae led a misruled and roving life.