ing in at one window, though not much, but enough to make
her see where the pulpit was, and up into the pulpit Maggie climbed,
because she had an idea she'd be safer there; and it certainly was
warmer, for it was a sort of little box with a door to it, and there
were one or two stools and cushions and some red cloth hanging round the
top, which Miss Maggie ventured to pull down and wrap round her. And
there she composed herself to sleep, and sleep she did, in spite of her
loneliness and hunger--oh, I forgot to say she found a wee bit of her
"piece" still in her pocket,--till the sunshine woke her up the next
morning, for luckily it was a bright mild day. Then down she came, and
walked up and down the aisles as fast as she dared, considering it was a
church, to get her cramped legs warm again, and just as she was thinking
what she was to do to get out, the door opened, to her delight, and in
came the man who had care of the church--what we call a verger--followed
by the old body who cleaned and swept it.

'They _were_ astonished, as you can fancy; such a thing had never
happened before within the memory of man.

'Old Peter took her off with him to his cottage, and his wife gave her
some hot breakfast, and then he borrowed a cart and drove Maggie
home--straight home to Muirness, not to Oldbiggins. It was home Maggie
wanted to go, you may be sure, and when Peter heard the story, he
declared her granny deserved a good fright for not looking after her
better.

"P'raps she thought I'd run off to mother and the boys," said Maggie.

'And that was just what it turned out to be.

'The old lady, instead of being frightened, was very angry. She had
stayed talking to some friend at the church door, and somehow her
daughter and the boys had fancied she and Maggie had driven off, not
seeing them about. Maggie's mother was in a hurry to get home to the one
that was ill, and just thought the little girl had gone back quietly
with her grandmother till the next morning. And when the granny had
missed the child, _she_ thought Maggie had run off to her mother--for
some one called out that Mistress Gray and her children had driven
off,--and was too offended to send to Muirness to ask!

'And at home they hadn't missed her of course. So, after all, Maggie
wasn't made much of a heroine of, for all she'd been so brave and
sensible.

'But I'm sure she never minded that, so glad was she to be in her own
dear home again, safe and sound. And