of a girn to her mouth. Man or woman or red-coated
sojer itself, they'd need to be up gey an' early that would get the
better o' her. A bird might be lang afore it could find time to build a
nest in her ear, so it might. Eh! but, my poor lad, it's a sorry thing
to think of ye lyin' the night through among the hard stones and me in
my warm bed. Eh! but it grieves me sore---- whisht, boy, what's thon?"

Hannah started to her feet. Hand to ear, lips parted, with eager eyes
and head bent forward she listened.

"It's the tread of horses; they're coming up the loany."

"I must run for it," said Neal, "let me out of the door, Hannah."

"Bide now, bide a wee, they'd see you if you went through the door."

She put out the lamp as she spoke.

"Do you slip through to the master's room and open the window. Go canny
now, and make no noise. Get through and off with ye into your cave as
hard as ever you can lift a foot, I'll cap them at the door, lad. I'm
the woman can do it. Faith and I'll sort them, be they who it may, so as
they'll no be in too great a hurry to come ridin' to this house again,
the black-hearted villains. But I'll learn them manners or I'm done wi'
them else my name's no Hannah Macaulay."

Neal, as he slipped silently from the room, was aware that Hannah
meditated a vigorous attack upon her midnight visitors. She took the
long kitchen poker in her hand, shook it with a grim smile, and thrust
the end of it into the heart of the fire.

There was a knock at the door. Hannah, standing in a corner of the room,
and hidden from any one looking in through the window, neither spoke nor
stirred. The knocking was repeated, and again repeated. Hannah remained
silent.

"Open the door," shouted a voice from without, "open the door at once."

Still there was no reply.

"We know you're within, Hannah Macaulay, we saw the light before you put
it out. Open to us, or we'll batter in the door, and then it will be the
worse for you."

"And who may be you that come knocking and banging the door of a dacent
house at this time o' night, making a hullabaloo fit for to wake the
dead; and it the blessed Sabbath too?"

"Sabbath be damned; it's Thursday night."

"Is it, then, is it? There's them that wouldn't know if it was Monday
nor Tuesday, nor yet Wednesday, nor the blessed Sabbath day itself, and,
what's more, wouldn't care if they did know. That just shows what like
lads you are. Away home out o' this to your beds, if so