Dalkeith is the market town of Midlothian, a bustling place of inns, merchants and small businesses. It is a town where farmers buy and sell, innkeepers charge too-high prices for their goods, lodging houses cater for travelling shearers, curlers play their roaring game, cricketers cricket, and an annual games attracts thousands of spectators and competitors. At one time or other, all the people from the countryside will gather in Dalkeith, including the Moffat women from Winter Lodge. That late September day of 1842 Dalkeith was even busier than usual for it seemed that every collier in the world had congregated in the town.
“Your father was right,” Mother said as she looked out of the window of our coach. “There are hundreds of colliers here. What in the world could have induced them to
