aying blame, that person found
himself in very hot water indeed.

Marjory went out to give Silky his supper. He always had his food in the
stable, but his bed was on a mat outside Marjory's bedroom door. Then
she went down the garden to find Peter.

She found him just putting away his tools for the night.

"Good-night, Peter," she said. "I just came to tell you I've got a
friend, and also that Lisbeth's cross."

"_She_ cross! Na, na; that canna be, Miss Marjory. Weary maybe wi' her
cookin' an' siclike for you an' the doctor, but no cross; na, na."

"Well, but, Peter, didn't you hear me say I've found a friend? Aren't
you glad?"

"Glad indeed I am. That's a bonnie bit news. An' what like is she?"

"She's the sweetest, prettiest girl you ever saw," said Marjory
enthusiastically.

"Ay, maybe she's that," replied the old man doubtfully, looking
significantly at Marjory.

"But I tell you she _is_, Peter, and her mother is so kind and gentle.
Their name is Forester, and they've just come to live at Braeside."

"Oh, _they_," said the old man.

The Foresters, being newcomers, did not hold a very high place in
Peter's estimation as yet.

"That's quick wark, Miss Marjory," he continued; and then, as if to
atone for his want of enthusiasm, "I'm glad to hear it, for whiles it
must be a bit lonesome here for a lassie the likes o' you."

"And, Peter darling, you'll be good to her, like you are to me, won't
you? And you'll show her the birds' eggs, and where to look for nests;
and you'll tell us stories on wet days, won't you?"

Peter looked guilty. He knew his master disapproved of fairy stories;
and his tales, although he would declare they were true ones and was
always careful to point them with an excellent moral, dealt largely with
the old Scottish fairy folk, and with the many superstitions handed down
from generation to generation amongst the peasantry.

"Na, na, Miss Marjory; ye're gettin' ower auld for Peter's stories; they
are but bairnie's tales."

"Now, Peter, you mustn't be obstinate. You must try to remember some
nice new ones."

"Aweel, gin I must, I must," said the old man, with a twinkle in his
eye, for if there was one thing he enjoyed above another, it was to see
Marjory sitting wide-eyed and open-mouthed drinking in some tale of
olden times.

"That's a good Peter. Now, remember, the first wet day that comes you're
engaged to us in the wood-shed. Good-night."

It was a beautiful still evenin