420 The Little Minister

and me kenning all the time that they would
never be finished. I watched her fingers, and I
said to mysel’, ‘ Another stitch, and that maun
be your last.’ I said that to mysel’ till I thocht
it was the needle that said it, and I wondered at
her no hearing.

‘‘In the tail o’ the day I says, ‘You needna
bother; he’ll never wear them,’ and they sounded
sic words o’ doom that I rose up off the chair.
Ay, but she took me up wrang, and she said, ‘I
see you have noticed how careless 0’ his ain
comforts he is, and that in his zeal he forgets to
put on his mittens, though they may be in his
pocket a’ the time. Ay,’ says she, confident-like,
‘but he winna forget these mittens, Mr. Wha-
mond, and I’ll tell you the reason: it’s because
they’re his mother’s work.’

“I stamped my foot, and she gae me an apolo-
getic look, and she says, ‘I canna help boasting
about his being so fond o’ me.’

“ Ay, but here was me saying to mysel’, ‘Do
your duty, Tammas Whamond; you sluggard,
do your duty,’ and without lifting my een frae
her fingers I said, sternly, ‘The chances are,’ I
said, ‘that these mittens will never be worn by
the hands they are worked for.’

“«You mean,’ says she, ‘that he’ll gie them
awa to some ill-off body, as he gies near a’ thing
he has? Ay, but there’s one thing he never
parts wi’, and that’s my work. There’s a young
lady in the manse the now,’ says she, ‘that
offered to finish the mittens for me, but he would
value them less if I let ony other body put a
stitch into them.’