Christian certainly deserved any good fortune that might fall to her.
She was the young widow of an under-gamekeeper at Taskerton, an estate
in our neighborhood. Donald Logan had met with an accident, by the
discharge of a gun, and had died of lock-jaw, consequent on the wound.
He had not been very thrifty, poor fellow, for he was too fond of
whiskey; the result was that very little means remained for the support
of the family when the bread-winner had been taken. The proprietor of
Taskerton was generally an absentee, and the casual tenants of the
place had little interest in those employed on the estate.
Consequently, Christian had to do her best to support herself and her
three young children by her own efforts. Tam and Kirsty, aged
respectively twelve and eleven, had to continue at school for a year or
two at least; the youngest, Jeemsie, who was only eight, had been deaf
and dumb from his birth.
Luckily, the agent of the estate, being a man of kindly feelings, was
willing to allow the poor woman to remain for a time in the cottage
they had occupied, and Val had approached the proprietor on the subject
of a pension. At present, however, beyond a liberal donation for
Christian's benefit, nothing definite had been settled. We had all
subscribed to buy her a sewing-machine, and as she was a clever
seamstress she was able to make ends meet by dressmaking. She had her
cow, and her few hens, so altogether, with the sale of eggs and
occasionally of milk, she was able to provide for her little ones for
the present.
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