ddled, and off the couple set.

Such a claver as there was, to be sure, when Tom and the Harrisons met!
The brothers were for seizing Tom in place of Yaspard; and nothing but
Signy's vehement protestations that he was under a flag of truce, so to
speak, prevented their carrying out some desperate measure of the sort.
They wouldn't see the difference between Yaspard caught at sea _after_
discharging a hospitable duty, and Tom a messenger of peace.

"Weel," said Lowrie at last, "will ye tak' one o' us in his place,
then?"

"No, we won't--not a dozen of you!" answered Tom.

"Oh, boys!" Signy exclaimed then, "Yaspard promised at the very first
that I should have a share in his Viking-ploy. It would be just lovely
if you would take _me_ with you, to beg for his freedom. You know
that's how the ladies used to do for their knights."

"When they happened to be their fathers or brothers," said Tom; "and
then the girls were married to the knights' enemies, and they all lived
happily ever after."

"I'm not going to marry you EVER, so that isn't to be the way this
time," retorted the little lady, with immense spirit.

"Very well," he answered calmly, "then it will be some other fellow.
But upon my word I think it would be a very jolly plan to take you with
us; only--will your uncle permit it?"

"I'll try and coax him. He is really dear and good, if you only would
believe it; and I don't think that he is going to be so camsterie[1]
about Lunda folk now that he has seen Mr. Garson. I just think Mr.
Garson is splendid. He makes me think of Prince Charlie and Sir Philip
Sidney. He looks so like a real hero, does he not?"

"Fred is to be the other fellow ten years hence," thought Tom, but he
wisely held his tongue.

Uncle Brues was not so very difficult to persuade as Signy had imagined.
Perhaps, if she had seen Dr. Holtum's letter, she would have found a
reason for his unexpected complacence; but Signy was too glad at the
permission given to waste thoughts on "reasons why." She would hardly
wait to carry out Aunt Osla's request that her best frock must be worn
on such an important occasion, and nothing short of Mam Kirsty's tears
could have reconciled her to wasting time in brushing out her abundant
hair into a profusion of curls, and otherwise making herself "a credit
tae them 'at aws (owns) her."

But when she was released from those loving feminine hands and went
down to the little quay with Uncle Brues to join t