One day, while I was restin' in my dressing room, word was brocht to me that a bit lassie who looked as if she micht be in sair trouble wad ha' a word wi' me.

I had her up, and saw that she was a pretty wee creature -- no more than eighteen.

Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes a deep blue, and very large, and she had lovely, curly hair.

But it took no verra keen een to see she was in sair trouble indeed.

She had been greetin' not sae lang syne, and her een were red and swollen frae her weeping.
"Eh, my, lassie," I said, "can I help ye, then?
But I hope you're no in trouble." "Oh, but I am, Mr.Lauder!" she cried.