little fellow, I pity him so much having to live
out on a wild moor, where there are no other children to play with him.
His grandfather says he often leaves him alone in the cottage by
himself."

"I cannot promise positively to let you go," said Mrs Vallery, "but I
am sure that you will do your best to return in good time. I hope to be
able to do so, and I should wish you to take something for the poor
little child you speak of."

"Thank you, mamma," said Fanny, kissing Mrs Vallery affectionately, and
forgetting all about the way Norman had treated her, she ran off to
prepare for tea.

CHAPTER SIX.

LEARNING TO FISH.

The next morning while they were at breakfast, Fanny asked the laird to
tell her something about Alec Morrison, the old man who had been so kind
to her and her brother the previous day.

"I can only give you the outline of his history, but perhaps you may get
him to narrate some of the many adventures he has gone through," he
answered.

"He was born not far from this, and his mother was a shepherd's only
daughter. His father who belonged also to this neighbourhood, when
quite a young man had driven some cattle to a seaport town when he got
pressed on board a man-of-war, and had sailed away to a foreign station,
before he could let his friends know what had become of him, or take any
steps to obtain his liberation. He had promised to marry Jennie Dow,
whom he truly loved, and had hoped soon to save enough by his industry
to set up house.

"Years and years passed by during which Jennie, who would not believe
that he was dead, remained faithful to him. Her father was getting old,
and her friends advised her to secure a home for herself. She replied
that it would be time enough to do so when her father was dead, and that
as long as he lived, she would stay and look after him.

"At length, on the evening of a summer's day, a one-armed man in a
sailor's dress approached the door. He looked ill and hungry and tired.
He stopped and asked for a cup of milk and a bit of bannock.

"`I will pay for both, gladly,' he said, `and be thankful besides, for
without some food I feel scarcely able to get on even to the village
where, if the friends I once had there are still alive, I am sure to get
a night's lodging and to learn about others, though may be they have
forgotten me long ago.'

"`Come in and sit down, old friend,' said the shepherd, and Jennie
placed a cup of milk and a bannock on the ta