ith admiring
astonishment. What she would become, when _he_ gave her the
opportunity, he could not imagine.

At nine o'clock there was a sideboard supper from a long table at one
side of the hall, loaded with cold meats, pastry, and cake. Every
young man took what his partner desired, and carried it to her. Then
when the women were served, the men helped themselves, and stood
eating and talking with the merry, chattering groups for a pleasant
half-hour, which gave to the last dances and songs even more than
their early enthusiasm. Angus waited on Christine and Faith, and
Faith's admirer had quite a flush of vanity, in supposing himself to
have cut the Master of Ballister out. He flattered himself thus, and
Faith let him think so, and Christine shook her head, and called him
"plucky and gay," epithets young men never object to, especially if
they know they are neither the one nor the other.

At twelve o'clock Ruleson spoke to the musicians, and the violins
dropped from the merry reel of "Clydeside Lasses" into the haunting
melody of "Caller Herrin'," and old and young stood up to sing it.
Margot started the "cry" in her clear, clarion-like voice; but young
and old joined in the imperishable song, in which the "cry" is
vocalized:

[Illustration: Music and Lyrics:

Who'll buy cal-ler her-rin'? They're twa a pen-ny twa a pen-ny, Who'll
buy cal-ler her-rin'? They're new come fra Loch fine. Come friends
sup-port the fish-er's trade. Wha still in yer'll earns his bread. While
'round our coast aft tem-pest tost. He drags for cal-ler her-rin'.
They're bon-nie fish, and dain-ty fa-ring. Buy my cal-ler her-rin'.
They're new come frae Loch-flae. Who'll buy my cal-ler her-rin'. There's
nought wi' them will stand com-par-ing. E'en they hae like dia-monds.
Their sides like sil-ver shine. Cal-ler her-rin', Cal-ler her-rin']

At one o'clock the Fishers' Hall was dark and still, and the echo of a
tender little laugh or song from some couple, who had taken the
longest way round for the nearest way home, was all that remained of
the mirth and melody of the evening. Angus and Christine sauntered
slowly through the village. The young man was then passionately
importunate in the protestations of his love. He wooed Christine with
all the honeyed words that men have used to the Beloved Woman, since
the creation. And Christine listened and was happy.

At length, however, he was obliged to tell her news he had delayed as
long as it was po