h; if not, he would leave the Grange and all its
unhappiness behind, and straightway plunge out into the world.

All through a week of stern work he had looked forward to this hard-won
half-holiday. Therefore, when, as he was breaking off at noon, his
father turned to him and said abruptly:

"David, ye're to tak' the Cheviot lot o'er to Grammoch-town at once," he
answered shortly:

"Yo' mun tak' 'em yo'sel', if yo' wish 'em to go to-day."

"Na," the little man answered; "Wullie and me, we're busy. Ye're to tak'
'em, I tell ye."

"I'll not," David replied. "If they wait for me, they wait till Monday,"
and with that he left the room.

"I see what 'tis," his father called after him; "she's give ye a tryst
at Kenmuir. Oh, ye randy David!"

"Yo' tend yo' business; I'll tend mine," the boy answered hotly.

Now it happened that on the previous day Maggie had given him a
photograph of herself, or, rather, David had taken it and Maggie had
demurred. As he left the room it dropped from his pocket. He failed to
notice his loss, but directly he was gone M'Adam pounced on it.

"He! he! Wullie, what's this?" he giggled, holding the photograph into
his face. "He! he! it's the jade hersel', I war'nt; it's Jezebel!"

He peered into the picture.

"She kens what's what, I'll tak' oath, Wullie. See her eyes--sae saft
and languishin'; and her lips--such lips, Wullie!" He held the picture
down for the great dog to see: then walked out of the room, still
sniggering, and chucking the face insanely beneath its cardboard chin.

Outside the house he collided against David. The boy had missed his
treasure and was hurrying back for it.

"What yo' got theer?" he asked suspiciously.

"Only the pictur' o' some randy quean," his father answered, chucking
away at the inanimate chin.

"Gie it me!" David ordered fiercely. "It's mine."

"Na, na," the little man replied. "It's no for sic douce lads as dear
David to ha' ony touch wi' leddies sic as this."

"Gie it me, I tell ye, or I'll tak' it!" the boy shouted.

"Na, na; it's ma duty as yer dad to keep ye from sic limmers." He
turned, still smiling, to Red Wull.

"There ye are, Wullie!" He threw the photograph to the dog. "Tear her,
Wullie, the Jezebel!"

The Tailless Tyke sprang on the picture, placed one big paw in the very
centre of the face, forcing it into the muck, and tore a corner off;
then he chewed the scrap with unctious, slobbering gluttony, dropped it,
and tore a fresh