g in the chimney-corner. The air
had that vaguely uneasy feeling in it that precedes a storm. Presently
there would be the first clap of thunder. The clock struck nine. No
Frank. An unheard-of hour for any of the Green Highland folk to be out
of their beds and awake. Mr Darvell rose, stretched himself, glanced
nervously at his wife, and suggested humbly:

"Shall us go to bed?"

"_You_ may," she replied, "but I don't stir till I see the lad. If so
be," she added, "you _can_ go to sleep with an easy mind while the lad's
still out, you'd better do it."

Her husband scratched his head thoughtfully, but made no answer; then
Mrs Darvell rose and stood in front of him, shaking a menacing finger.

"Frank Darvell," she said slowly and solemnly, "you've bin leatherin'
that lad. Don't deny it, for I know it."

Mr Darvell did not attempt to deny it. He only shuffled his feet a
little.

"An now," continued his wife with increasing vehemence, "you've druv him
at last to run away; don't deny it."

"He ain't run away," muttered Mr Darvell. "He ain't got pluck enough
to do that. He's a coward, that's what he is."

"Coward!" cried his wife, now fairly roused, and standing in an
aggressive attitude. "It's you that are the coward, you great, hulking,
stupid lout, to strike a weak boy half yer size. An' to talk of goin'
to bed, an' him wandering out there in the woods. My poor little gentle
lad!"

She sank down on the settle and wrung her hands helplessly, but started
up again the next minute with a sudden energy which seemed to petrify
her husband.

"Put on your boots," she said, pointing to them; and as Mr Darvell
meekly obeyed she went on speaking quietly and rapidly. "Wake up Jack
Gunn and send him down to Danecross. Tell him to ask at the rectory and
at schoolmaster's if they've seen the lad. Take your lantern and go
into the woods. There's gypsies camping out Hampden way; go there, and
tell 'em to look out for him. Don't you dare to come back without the
lad. I'll stop here, and burn a light and keep his supper ready. Poor
little lad, he'll be starved with hunger!"

But the night waned, and no tidings came of Frank. Jack Gunn came back
from Danecross having learned nothing, and the poor mother's fears
increased. The boy must be wandering in those weary woods, afraid to
come home--or perhaps lost. Such a thing had been known before now; and
as the first streaks of light appeared in the sky, and she