y, was somewhat concerned.

There was a restless movement among the young men about the stove.
Scotty twisted and squirmed and tried in vain to be still. It was very
wicked to open one's eyes during prayer, he knew. Roarin' Sandy's
Johnny had told him that if he did he might see the Deil standing
behind him. And since then Scotty had been divided between dread of
the awful apparition and a natural desire to see what his Satanic
Majesty looked like. He was ashamed of his restlessness, for Callum
was kneeling beside him motionless. Callum would think him a baby if
he moved. He peeped cautiously through his fingers at his uncle.
Callum was kneeling at the bench, absolutely still, indeed, but with
his eyes wide open and staring straight at the black, curly head of Tom
Caldwell's daughter.

Scotty felt that if it were not very wicked, he would like to
straighten up like that and stare at somebody, too. It looked so big
and manly. Mastering his fears, he turned cautiously in the direction
of Betty, but Betty had slipped to the floor with her tousled yellow
head on the bench, and was sound asleep. Scotty closed his eyes again,
the droning voice of Long Lauchie floated farther and farther away, he
felt himself going, too, somewhere, into immeasurable space, until at
last he dropped into the gulf of oblivion. He half woke to find Granny
tying a muffler round his neck. He made an ineffectual effort to stop
her, for she was saying, "Eh, eh, Granny's poor, wee, sleepy lamb," and
he dreaded lest Peter should hear her; only Peter, like all the other
people, seemed an immeasurable distance away. Someone else was bending
over him, too, and saying, "And you'll be sure to let him come, then?"

"But I'm afraid he would jist be a trouble to yer mother, Kirsty,"
Granny answered.

"Tuts, not a bit!" was the reply. "Mother'll jist be glad o' him, an'
the wee Isabel would be lonely. Ah'm glad she's comin', for mother's
jist wearin' to see her again, an' Miss Herbert's sick, poor lady.".

"Oh, well, indeed he can go, Kirsty, an' I hope he will not be rough
with the little lady."

"Not him." Scotty felt a strong, rough hand pass gently over his
curls. "When she comes Ah'll send ye word by yon loon o' a weaver.
It'll give him somethin' to do, an' the buddie's jist fair in want for
a job."

"Ah, Kirsty, Kirsty!" whispered Granny, "it's too hard ye'll be on poor
Jimmie. Take my advice an' marry him, he'll be a good man to y