o place for men-folk.

But crossing the yard, Betty beckoned me with a crooked forefinger.

"Who's wean is that, think ye, Hamish, that Belle brought here?"

"I think you should be asking Belle," said I.

"Ask here or ask there," says Betty, "the wean has a look o'--dinna be
feart, my lad--the wean has the look o' John o' Scaurdale. And that,"
says she, "would be fair scandalous."

But after Betty's jalousing I had a word or two with Dan McBride, my
cousin.

"Wean," says he, "and Betty thinks the bairn has a look o' John o'
Scaurdale. It beats me, the cleverness of that woman. This is the
story I got from Belle, Hamish. It's a little dreich, but it will be
as well that ye should ken."

"Well," says Dan, "when ye were at the College in the toon and learning
yer tasks, there was a lass came to stop at Scaurdale, a niece she was
to the Laird there (a sister's wean, I am thinking), very prim and
bonny she was, and fu' o' nonsensical book-lore. She took a liking to
the place, and there are some that pretend to ken, that say she took
mair than a liking to the Laird's son. I would not say for that; he
was a brisk lad for so douce a lady. Well, well, Hamish, they cast
out, and away goes the lass in a huff to her ain folk, and then back
comes the word o' her wedding (some South-country birkie her man was,
o' the name o' Stockdale, if I mind it right), and when that word came,
John o' Scaurdale's son was like to go out at the rigging. We'll say
naething about that, Hamish; ye ken what came on him: his horse threw
him at the Laird's Turn yonder, and he never steered--he was by wi' it."

"What has this to do with Belle's wean?" said I.

"Belle's wean! Man, Belle never had a wean. That bairn is
Stockdale's; and I'm hearing," said he, "that Scaurdale's niece, the
mother of it, sent word to her uncle to take away the bairn, for her
man turned out an ill-doer, and it's like she would be feart. But I
ken this much, Hamish, Belle is waiting word from Scaurdale, and," says
he, "they ken all the outs and ins of it, our friends here, and
whenever it will be safe the wean will go to John o' Scaurdale."

"Scaurdale is not so far from here," said I. "Could Belle not have
taken the bairn there at the first go off?"

"I thought ye had mair heid, Hamish. There's aye plenty o' gossips in
the world, and Scaurdale will want this business kept quiet."

"In plain words," said I, "the wean has been stolen away from her
father