ent
into her underlip; now her head was erect. After her came the rabble
with a rush, flinging stones that had no mark and epithets that hit.
Grizel disdained to look over her shoulder. Little hunted child, where
was succor to come from if she could not fight for herself?

Though under the torture she would not cry out. "What's a father?" was
their favorite jeer, because she had once innocently asked this question
of a false friend. One tried to snatch the letter from her, but she
flashed him a look that sent him to the other side of the dyke, where,
he said, did she think he was afraid of her? Another strutted by her
side, mimicking her in such diverting manner that presently the others
had to pick him out of the ditch. Thus Grizel moved onward defiantly
until she reached Monypenny, where she tossed the letter in at the
smithy door and immediately returned home. It was the letter that had
been sent to her mother, now sent back, because it was meant for the
dead farmer after all.

The smith read Jean Myles's last letter, with a face of growing gravity.
"Dear Double Dykes," it said, "I send you these few scrapes to say I am
dying, and you and Aaron Latta was seldom sindry, so I charge you to go
to him and say to him 'Aaron Latta, it's all lies Jean Myles wrote to
Thrums about her grandeur, and her man died mony year back, and it was
the only kindness he ever did her, and if she doesna die quick, her and
her starving bairns will be flung out into the streets.' If that doesna
move him, say, 'Aaron Latta, do you mind yon day at Inverquharity and
the cushie doos?' likewise, 'Aaron Latta, do you mind yon day at the
Kaims of Airlie?' likewise, 'Aaron Latta, do you mind that Jean Myles
was ower heavy for you to lift? Oh, Aaron, you could lift me so pitiful
easy now.' And syne says you solemnly three times, 'Aaron Latta, Jean
Myles is lying dying all alone in a foreign land; Aaron Latta, Jean
Myles is lying dying all alone in a foreign land; Aaron Latta, Jean
Myles is lying dying all alone in a foreign land.' And if he's sweer to
come, just say, 'Oh, Aaron, man, you micht; oh, Aaron, oh, Aaron, are
you coming?'"

The smith had often denounced this woman, but he never said a word
against her again. He stood long reflecting, and then took the letter to
Blinder and read it to him.

"She doesna say, 'Oh, Aaron Latta, do you mind the Cuttle Well?'" was
the blind man's first comment.

"She was thinking about it," said Auchterlon