the books, you'll ask him, 'Are you wanting any
books for the finishing up, Neil?' You see it is just here, Feyther,
he could borrow the books----"

"Hang borrowing!"

"Just sae, you are quite right, Feyther. Neil says if he has to
borrow, he'll never get the book when he wants it, and that he would
never get leave to keep it as long as he needed. Now Neil be to hae
his ain books, Feyther, he will mak' good use o' them, and we must not
fail him at the last hour."

"Wha's talking o' failing him? Not his feyther, I'm sure! Do I expect
to catch herrings without the nets and accessories? And I ken that
I'll not mak' a lawyer o' Neil, without the Maraschal and the books it
calls for."

"You are the wisest and lovingest o' feythers. When you meet Neil, and
you twa are by yoursel's, put your hand on Neil's shoulder, and ask
Neil, 'Are you needing any books for your last lessons?'"

"I'll do as you say, dear lass. It is right I should."

"Nay, but he should ask you to do it. If it was mysel', I could ask
you for anything I ought to have, but Neil is vera shy, and he kens
weel how hard you wark for your money. He canna bear to speak o' his
necessities, sae I'm speaking the word for him."

"Thy word goes wi' me--always. I'll ne'er say nay to thy yea," and he
clasped her hand, and looked with a splendid smile of affection into
her beautiful face. An English father would have certainly kissed her,
but Scotch fathers rarely give this token of affection. Christine did
not expect it, unless it was her birthday, or New Year's morning.

It was near the middle of July, when the herring arrived. Then early
one day, Ruleson, watching the sea, smote his hands triumphantly, and
lifting his cap with a shout of welcome, cried--

"There's our boat! Cluny is sailing her! He's bringing the news! They
hae found the fish! Come awa' to the pier to meet them, Christine."

With hurrying steps they took the easier landward side of descent, but
when they reached the pier there was already a crowd of men and women
there, and the _Sea Gull_, James Ruleson's boat, was making for it.
She came in close-hauled to the wind, with a double reef in her sail.
She came rushing across the bay, with the water splashing her gunwale.
Christine kept her eyes upon the lad at the tiller, a handsome lad,
tanned to the temples. His cheeks were flushed, and the wind was in
his hair, and the sunlight in his eyes, and he was steering the big
herring boat into the h