t once more, but without
success; and at last I heard my father calling me.

I ran to him, and told him there was no woman to be seen.

"That's odd," he said. "She must have passed straight through the yard
and got out at the other side before you went in. While you were
looking for her, she was plodding away out of sight. Come along, and
let us have our tea."

I could not feel quite satisfied about it, but, as there was no other
explanation, I persuaded myself that my father was right.

The next Saturday evening I was in the nursery with my brothers. It
was growing dusk, when I heard a knocking. Mrs. Mitchell did not seem
to hear it, so I went and opened the door. There was the same beggar
woman. Rather frightened, I called aloud, and Mrs. Mitchell came. When
she saw it was a beggar, she went back and reappeared with a wooden
basin filled with meal, from which she took a handful as she came in
apparent preparation for dropping it, in the customary way, into the
woman's bag. The woman never spoke, but closed the mouth of her
wallet, and turned away. Curiosity gave me courage to follow her. She
walked with long strides in the direction of the farm, and I kept at a
little distance behind her. She made for the yard. She should not
escape me this time. As soon as she entered it, I ran as fast as I
could, and just caught sight of her back as she went into one of the
cow-houses. I darted after her. She turned round upon me--fiercely, I
thought, but judge my surprise when she held out the open mouth of the
bag towards me, and said--

"Not one grain, Ranald! Put in your hand and feel."

It was Turkey.

I stared in amazement, unable for a time to get rid of the apparition
and see the reality. Turkey burst out laughing at my perplexed
countenance.

"Why didn't you tell me before, Turkey?" I asked, able at length to
join in the laugh.

"Because then you would have had to tell your father, and I did not
want him to be troubled about it, at least before we had got things
clear. I always _did_ wonder how he could keep such a creature about
him."

"He doesn't know her as we do, Turkey."

"No. She never gives him the chance. But now, Ranald, couldn't you
manage to find out whether she makes any store of the meal she
pretends to give away?"

A thought struck me.

"I heard Davie the other day asking her why she had two meal-tubs:
perhaps that has something to do with it."

"You must find out. Don't ask Davie."

For