cted check. The
outer door flew open, and a girlie of about ten, wild-eyed,
bare-headed, panting for breath, rushed into the midst of the
gathering. She was evidently laboring under the stress of some
unwonted excitement. There was no shyness now, in spite of the
priest's presence--in spite of the eager faces that sought hers in
anxious questioning.

"Mither, Mither!" she screamed shrilly, as she caught sight of the
familiar face she sought, and rushed toward her mother's open arms. It
was little Peggy, Bell's younger sister.

"Oh, Mither," she wailed through her sobs, "oor Jessie's nae to be
foond! She's nae at hame. I dinna ken wha she's gane!"

With her mother's arms around her, the child was able to give a more
coherent account of the circumstances which had led to this abrupt
cessation of the dance; for Archie's melody had trailed off into an
unmusical drone and speedily ceased, and the dancers had spontaneously
crowded round the child and her mother.

Peggy had been left in charge at home, for Bell was allowed to take
part in the "ball." Jessie, the youngest but one of the family, was a
little maid of four years. She had accompanied Peggy and her brothers,
with a crowd of other small folk, when the children went to the moss
with provisions for the workers. All had gone and returned in a body,
and no one noticed that Jessie was not with them. It was only when
Peggy began to assemble her own little charges, to conduct them to
their own house, that she missed the wee lassie. Peggy knew that her
father and mother, together with all her elders in the family, had
already started for the barn--some to help in the preparations, others
to chat with those who were assembling outside. It was growing dark,
for the children had delayed their homeward journey (as they often will
when a number are together) to play and sport.

There was no one to advise or help the child. Sending on
three-year-old Elsie and the other little ones in charge of Johnnie,
she ran back, half distracted, toward the hill they had left earlier in
the afternoon. Shouting out for Jessie by name, she wandered hither
and thither--terrified, self-accusing, disconsolate. But it was all to
no purpose. Darkness fell, and fearful and contrite, Peggy had no
resource but to seek her mother.

There was no more merriment that night. A search party was at once
organized by the younger men, who started with lanterns and some of
their collies to