bark,
from which all the astringent virtue had been extracted in the pits at
the lanyard, and which was given to the poor for nothing.

Turkey's mother was sitting near the little window, spinning. She was
a spare, thin, sad-looking woman, with loving eyes and slow speech.

"Johnnie!" she exclaimed, "what brings you here? and who's this
you've brought with you?"

Instead of stopping her work as she spoke, she made her wheel go
faster than before; and I gazed with admiration at her deft fingering
of the wool, from which the thread flowed in a continuous line, as if
it had been something plastic, towards the revolving spool.

"It's Ranald Bannerman," said Turkey quietly. "I'm his horse. I'm
taking him home from the school. This is the first time he's been
there since he was ill."

Hearing this, she relaxed her labour, and the hooks which had been
revolving so fast that they were invisible in a mist of motion, began
to dawn into form, until at length they revealed their shape, and at
last stood quite still. She rose, and said:

"Come, Master Ranald, and sit down. You'll be tired of riding such a
rough horse as that."

"No, indeed," I said; "Turkey is not a rough horse; he's the best
horse in the world."

"He always calls me Turkey, mother, because of my nose," said Turkey,
laughing.

"And what brings you here?" asked his mother. "This is not on the road
to the manse."

"I wanted to see if you were better, mother."

"But what becomes of the cows?"

"Oh! they're all safe enough. They know I'm here."

"Well, sit down and rest you both," she said, resuming her own place
at the wheel. "I'm glad to see you, Johnnie, so be your work is not
neglected. I must go on with mine."

Thereupon Turkey, who had stood waiting his mother's will, deposited
me upon her bed, and sat down beside me.

"And how's your papa, the good man?" she said to me.

I told her he was quite well.

"All the better that you're restored from the grave, I don't doubt,"
she said.

I had never known before that I had been in any danger.

"It's been a sore time for him and you too," she added. "You must be a
good son to him, Ranald, for he was in a great way about you, they
tell me."

Turkey said nothing, and I was too much surprised to know what to say;
for as often as my father had come into my room, he had always looked
cheerful, and I had had no idea that he was uneasy about me.

After a little more talk, Turkey rose, and said we mus