"Not wi' child yet?" she demanded. "Raspberry leaves, that's the thing. Steep a handful wi' rosehips and drink it when the moon's waxing, from the quarter to the full. Then when it wanes from the full to the half, take a bit o' barberry to purge your womb." "Oh," I said, "well--" "I'd a bit of a favor to ask his lairdship," the old lady went on. "But as I see he's a bit occupied at present, I'll tell you about it." "All right," I agreed weakly, not seeing how I could stop her anyway. "It's my grandson," she said, fixing me"