nd there was no need
to hurry home, for the afternoon was not far over--at least there would
have been no need if the bairns had not been all so ravenously hungry.
The "piece" which each had brought from home had been made away with by
the greater number, before even the "Stanes" were in sight, and the
additional supply which Allison had provided did not go very far among
so many.

In these circumstances, imagine the shout of welcome which greeted the
appearance of Robin with a bag upon his back--Robin's bag, the bairns
called it; but the treat of baps and buns was John Beaton's, who took
this way to celebrate his homecoming. And it is to be doubted whether
he ever in all his life spent many other crown-pieces to better purpose,
as far as the giving or the getting or pleasure was concerned.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"Love sought is good, but love unsought is better."

John Beaton came slowly up the height which hid for the moment the spot
where the bairns had gathered, and Robin followed with his bag on his
shoulder. Confusion reigned triumphant. Some of the little ones had
become tired and fretful, and the elder girls were doing what they could
to comfort and encourage them. But by far the greater number were as
lively as when they set out in the morning, and by no means in haste to
end their day of pleasure. Up the shelving side of one of the great
grey stones they were clambering, and then, with shrill shrieks and
laughter, springing over the other side to the turf below. Not the
slightest heed was given to the voice of the mistress, heard amid the
din, expostulating, warning, threatening "broken banes and bluidy noses,
ere a' was dane." This was what Robin saw, and it was "a sight worth
seeing."

What John Beaton saw was Allison Bain standing apart, with Marjorie in
her arms, and he saw nothing else for a while. Even Robin, with his bag
on his shoulder, stopped a moment to gaze at "our lass," as he called
her in a whisper to his friend. She looked a very different lass from
"our Allie" in the manse kitchen, with her downcast eyes, and her
silence, and her utter engrossment with the work of the moment. Her big
mutch had fallen off, and a mass of bright hair lay over the arm which
the child had clasped about her neck. The air had brought a wonderful
soft colour to her cheeks, and her lips were smiling, and so were her
eyes, as she watched the wild play of the bairns, and her darling's
delight in it. The