hair, not without much
rebellion against her fate though, and many tears of repentance, and
frequent solemn pledges to walk in unstreaked propriety for the rest of
her days.

At other times she recklessly concluded that it was impossible to
battle against destiny. For one never knew just how one was going to
act. For a very chameleon was this strange Elizabeth, always the color
of her surroundings. Being just ten-and-a-half, she would act with the
wisdom of an ancient sage when in company with Mrs. MacAllister, and
the foolishness of a spring lamb when left to gambol with her little
brother. To-night her spirit had caught the joyous note of the
wonderful spring evening, and she was like the valley, gay and
sparkling and noisy with delight. Besides, this was the first time she
had ever been allowed to go home alone from Mother MacAllister's, and
the sense of freedom went to her head.

So, along the lavender road she skipped, holding her skirts very high,
splashing mud over her pinafore and even her sunbonnet, and singing
loudly:

"_She's ower the border an' awa
Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!_"

Mr. MacAllister had sung this song after supper, between the puffs of
his pipe, as he sat on the wash bench by the door, and Mother
MacAllister had told them the story, as she and Elizabeth washed up the
dishes, the story of the lady of high degree who had cast aside wealth
and noble lovers to hie awa wi' Jock o' Hazeldean.

Charles Stuart, who was Mother MacAllister's really, truly child, had
interrupted to inquire what "ower the border an' awa'" meant, and
Elizabeth had felt impatient enough to slap him had she dared. Charles
Stuart was very stupid about some things, though he could spell and
always got the right answer to a sum in school. Elizabeth knew exactly
what it meant, though she could not have explained. It was just what
she was doing now, as she leaped from pool to pool with her skirts and
her pinafore in a string about her waist--fleeing in ecstasy away,
away, to that far-off undiscovered country of dreams, "Ower the border."

Her joyous abandon was rudely checked. There was a quick splash from a
pool not a yard ahead of her, where a stone hit the water sharply.
Elizabeth stopped in alarm. She whirled round towards the low fence
bordering the highway. Its innocent appearance, all draped in woodbine
and fringed with alder and raspberry bushes, did not deceive her in the
least. "You're a nasty, mean, m