l of dinner was coming across the yard.

'Tell them it's stown siller, and they'll be in het watter aboot it gin
they dinna gie ye 't back.'

'I maun hae my denner first,' remonstrated Shargar.

But the spirit of his grandmother was strong in Robert, and in a matter
of rectitude there must be no temporizing. Therein he could be as
tyrannical as the old lady herself.

'De'il a bite or a sup s' gang ower your thrapple till I see that
shillin'.'

There was no help for it. Six hungry miles must be trudged by Shargar
ere he got a morsel to eat. Two hours and a half passed before he
reappeared. But he brought the shilling. As to how he recovered it,
Robert questioned him in vain. Shargar, in his turn, was obstinate.

'She's a some camstairy (unmanageable) wife, that grannie o' yours,'
said Mr. Lammie, when Robert returned the shilling with Mrs. Falconer's
message, 'but I reckon I maun pit it i' my pooch, for she will hae her
ain gait, an' I dinna want to strive wi' her. But gin ony o' ye be in
want o' a shillin' ony day, lads, as lang 's I'm abune the yird--this
ane 'll be grown twa, or maybe mair, 'gen that time.'

So saying, the farmer put the shilling into his pocket, and buttoned it
up.

The dragon flew splendidly now, and its strength was mighty. It was
Robert's custom to drive a stake in the ground, slanting against the
wind, and thereby tether the animal, as if it were up there grazing in
its own natural region. Then he would lie down by the stake and read
The Arabian Nights, every now and then casting a glance upward at the
creature alone in the waste air, yet all in his power by the string at
his side. Somehow the high-flown dragon was a bond between him and the
blue; he seemed nearer to the sky while it flew, or at least the heaven
seemed less far away and inaccessible. While he lay there gazing, all at
once he would find that his soul was up with the dragon, feeling as it
felt, tossing about with it in the torrents of the air. Out at his
eyes it would go, traverse the dim stairless space, and sport with the
wind-blown monster. Sometimes, to aid his aspiration, he would take a
bit of paper, make a hole in it, pass the end of the string through the
hole, and send the messenger scudding along the line athwart the depth
of the wind. If it stuck by the way, he would get a telescope of Mr.
Lammie's, and therewith watch its struggles till it broke loose, then
follow it careering up to the kite. Away with each suc