en he had crushed her to his breast, and
cried to her to be his. Thus womanhood dawned for her, and its great
responsibilities frightened her.

Robert, on the other hand, spent a week nursing his injured foot, but
apart from the week's idle time, he suffered very little. He felt sore
at losing the race, but was able now to look upon it as an unfortunate
accident. But that smile which he had seen on the face of Mysie made him
strangely happy, and it helped him to get over his disappointment. He
was impatient to be out upon the moor again. He would wait for Mysie
some night, he concluded, and tell her calmly that he wanted her to
marry him.

His mother's prospects were fairly good now. The youngest boy would soon
be working; besides, two other brothers were at work, while Jennie, his
eldest sister, was in service, and Annie, the younger one, was helping
in the house. He waited, night after night, after his injured foot was
better--lingering on the moor by the path which Mysie must travel. He
lay among the heather and read books, or dreamed of a rosy future, with
her the center of his dreams; but no Mysie came along, and he began to
grow anxious.

He wanted to make enquiries about her, but feared to arouse suspicion of
having too keen an interest in her. By various ways he sought
information, but never heard anything definite.

"I see Matthew Maitland's ither lassie has started on the pit-head," he
said to his mother, as one night they sat by the fire before retiring.

"Ay," answered Mrs. Sinclair. "Matthew has the worst o' it by noo. Wi'
his twa bits o' laddies workin', an' Mysie in service, an' Mary gaun to
the pit-head, it should mak' his burden a wee easier."

"I dinna like the idea o' lasses gaun to work on the pithead," he said
simply. "I aye mind of the time that Mysie an' me wrocht on it. It's no'
a very nice place for lasses or women."

"No," his mother said. "I dinna like it either. Nae guid ever comes o'
lasses gaun there. They lose a' sense o' modesty an' decency, after a
while, an' are no' like women at a' when they grow aulder. Besides, it
mak's them awfu' coorse."

"I wad hardly say that aboot them a'," he ventured cautiously. "Mysie's
no' coorse, an' she worked on the pithead."

"No, Mysie's no' coorse," admitted his mother; "but Mysie didna work
very lang on the pit-head. An' forby, we dinna ken but what Mysie micht
hae been better if she had never been near it, or worse if she had
stayed langer