her. She withdrew to a
country town not far from the Moray Frith, where she might live
comfortably on her small income, be a person of some consideration, and
reap all the advantages of the peculiar facilities which the place
afforded for the education of her boy, whom she would mould and model
after her own heart.

"So you see, Mr--I forget yer name--Forbes? yes, Forbes, if the rascal
takes after his mother, you have made a dangerous enemy," said Mr
Cupples, in conclusion.

Alec laughed.

"I advise you," resumed Mr Cupples, "to keep a gleg ee in yer heid,
though--seriously. A body may lauch ower aften. It winna do to gang
glowerin' at rainbows. They're bonnie things, but they're nae
brig-backs. Gin ye lippen to them, ye'll be i' the water in a
cat-loup."

Alec was beginning to enter into the humour of the man.

"I see something like poetry lying about the table, Mr Cupples," said
he, with a sly allusion to the _rainbows_. "Would you let me look at
it?"

Mr Cupples glanced at him sharply; but replied immediately:

"Broken bits o' them! And the rainbows cast (lose colour) awfu', ance
ye tak' the key-stane oot o' them. Lat them sit up there, brigs
(bridges) ower naething, wi' nae road upo' the tap o' them, like the
stane brig o' Drumdochart efter the spate (flood). Haud yer han's and
yer een aff o' them, as I tellt ye afore.--Ay, ay, ye can luik at thae
screeds gin ye like. Only dinna say a word to me aboot ony o' them. And
tak' warnin' by them yersel, never to write ae word o' poetry, to haud
ye frae rivin'."

"Sma' fear o' that!" returned Alec, laughing.

"Weel, I houp sae.--Ye can mak a kirk an' a mill o' them, gin ye like.
They hae lain there lang eneuch. Noo, haud yer tongue. I'm gaein to
fill my pipe again, afore I burn oot the dottle. I winna drink mair the
nicht, cause it's the Sabbath, and I'm gaein to read my buik."

So saving, he proceeded to get the _dottle_ out of his pipe, by
knocking it on the hob; while Alec took up the paper that lay nearest.
He found it contained a fragment of a poem in the Scotch language; and,
searching amongst the rest of the scattered sheets, he soon got the
whole of it together.

Now, although Alec had but little acquaintance with verse, he was able,
thanks to Annie Anderson, to enjoy a ballad very heartily; and there
was something in this one which, associating itself in his mind with
the strange being before him, moved him more than he could account for.
It was cal