the
master. He was as it were a conscious shadow to him. There was no hour
of a holiday in which Truffey could not tell precisely where the master
was. If one caught sight of Andrew, _hirpling_ down a passage, or
leaning against a corner, he might be sure the master would pass within
a few minutes. And the haunting of little Truffey worked so on his
conscience, that, if the better nature of him had not asserted itself
in love to the child, he would have been compelled to leave the place.
For think of having a visible sin of your own, in the shape of a
lame-legged boy, peeping at you round every other corner!

But he did learn to love the boy; and therein appeared the divine
vengeance--ah! how different from human vengeance!--that the outbreak
of unrighteous wrath reacted on the wrong-doer in shame, repentance,
and love.

CHAPTER XXXI.

At length the boat was calked, tarred, and painted.

One evening as Annie entered the workshop, she heard Curly cry,

"Here she is, Alec!"

and Alec answer,

"Let her come. I'm just done."

Alec stood at the stern of the boat, with a pot in one hand, and a
paint-brush in the other; and, when Annie came near, she discovered to
her surprise, and not a little to her delight, that he was just
finishing off the last E of "THE BONNIE ANNIE."

"There," said he, "that's her name. Hoo de ye like it, Annie?"

Annie was too much pleased to reply. She looked at it for a while with
a flush on her face: and then turning away, sought her usual seat on
the heap of spales.

How much that one winter, with its dragons and its heroes, its
boat-building and its rhymes, its discomforts at home and its
consolations abroad, its threats of future loss, and comforts of
present hope, had done to make the wild country child into a thoughtful
little woman!

Now who should come into the shop at the moment but Thomas Crann!--the
very man of all men not to be desired on the occasion; for the boys had
contemplated a certain ceremony of christening, which they dared not
carry out in the presence of the stone-mason; without which, however,
George Macwha was very doubtful whether the little craft would prove a
lucky one.--By common understanding they made no allusion to the
matter, thus postponing it for the present.

"Ay! ay! Alec," said Thomas; "sae yer boat's bigget at last!"

He stood contemplating it for a moment, not without some hardly
perceptible signs of admiration, and then said: