I made up my mind that I would go to Glasgow to find Miss Miller, of Denny, so I watched till I saw my father go away in the morning. Then I went into the little place, which was awful to look at. Everything was thrown about, and my hat had been knocked off from behind the door and trodden on. So I had no hat. I knew where there were two shillings on a shelf. I took the shillings, and as I knew that when my father was all right he would look after my brother, I did not say anything to the kind woman, but went off to the railway-station and got a ticket for Glasgow, which cost one shilling and eightpence. When I landed in Glasgow I had not the slightest idea of how large a city it was. I only had the lady's address in my memory. Her husband was a wine and spirit merchant, Mr. George Stirling. I made enquiries, and found the street, but was mystified by the length of it. After wandering up and down for some time looking for Mr. Stirling's house he saw me, and, happily for me, he knew me as the little maid at the baker's. He said, "Little Susie, where are you going?" I told him I was looking for Miss Isabel. He stared at me, and asked me to come inside, while, sobbing, I told him all my trouble. While he came to the house at Denny he always called me Susie, and I did not mind. He said now, "Well, Susie, you cannot see Mrs. Stirling; she is very ill, and you must not call her Miss Isabel now, but I will see what can be done for you till my wife is better."

So he sent some food for me, and wrote a note, and got a boy to take me to a friend of his in Argyle-street. This was a large place, known as the "Steak and Chop House." The proprietress was Mrs. Wilson, a widow with three daughters. In the note she was requested to find something for me to do till Mrs. Stirling could decide what was to happen to me. I was sent amongst the cooks downstairs, and I helped to do the vegetables and other things. This was in a very busy street, and it was a busy house. There seemed such a lot of people employed, both men and women. Everything was different to me, and the whole world was changed, and I did not care whether I was called Susie or Annie.

I had to work underground in a room always lighted with gas. I did not see real daylight again for a long time. Through thick glass in the pavement some light entered a room where another girl and I slept. All night I could hear the people passing, and at first I could not sleep for the noise. I had a lot to do, and I did not like my surroundings. For instance, all the meat and similar food was brought direct from the slaughterhouse. A man cut it up in the different portions allotted for different purposes. He had the ox feet and the tripe for his perquisites. This was all done where I attended to the vegetables.

How often I wished I were back again amongst the bakers. I liked that better. In my anguish I often gave vent to my feeling in sobs and moans when nobody could see. I could not write, but could only make symbols that had no meaning to me. They were only strokes and crooks. I saw nobody from Slamannan, and no one there knew where I was for the first six months. I got no wages, but the mistress obtained for me some little changes of garment, for which I was thankful. I did not see the mistress very often. She kept a woman as manager, and I thought she was the most awful woman I had ever seen. She used to take snuff. I never went to see Mrs. Stirling, being afraid of the thronged streets, but I learned that she was a little better, and had gone away for some months. So I thought the best thing I could do was to stop where I was till someone came whom I knew. There were always such a lot of people coming in and out, for although there was a framed card in the large window, stating that it was a "steak-house," there were all sorts of soups and roasts, with pies, and frequently gentlemen would order large suppers for their friends, sometimes on the premises, and at others to be sent to their flats or rooms, as the case might be.

On a busy day I got to be helpful, and went into the rooms to assist the waiters. The day that Sir Colin Campbell was made Lord Clyde was the first time that I helped inside. That was a day never to be forgotten. We all tried to see him in an open carriage as he was driven to the Town Hall to receive the freedom of the city. I saw him going and coming back. The streets were something to remember. It was stated that many were carried out of their way, and did not get their feet to the ground for ever so far.

I had been at this place for a year and some months when one day I was sent a message, I heard someone say, "That is Anna McDonald." To my joy, I saw two young men from Slamannan. I knew them at once. One was James Simson, and the other William Robinson. I could only ask them to come in and tell me if my father, sister, and brother were alive. They told me that I had been given up as lost or dead, and that all the old pit-shafts had been searched for my body. Still, through my disappearance and the shock it gave him, my father had become a sober man, and had entirely given up the drink. They never thought I had found my way to Glasgow.

Both of them said together, "Your sister is in Glasgow to-day. We saw her." I just stood rigid and helpless till one of them set out to find her, and the other stopped with me until she was brought to me. Not a sound could pass my lips. We kissed and looked at each other. She had grown, and so had I. There was now no home, she told me. My father and brother were in lodgings and my sister still remained at farm service. I got permission for my sister to stay with me all night. She told me that she had been in Glasgow two or three times before to see if she could find me.

The young men went back to Slamannan that night and told my father where I was, and a little while after my sister left, my father and my dear little brother arrived. That was the first time I saw my brother in pants. My father looked so different and so young-looking and well. I had no wish to go to Slamannan to live, so that was settled. I was still hoping to go and live with Mrs. Stirling when I would be a little bigger and stronger.

I was very troubled about my throat, for I could hardly speak without an effort, it being very painful.