older and far wiser than Ranald. It is worse of Ranald because I
was his father. I will try to show you the wrong you have done.--Had
you told me without doing anything yourselves, then I might have
succeeded in bringing Mrs. Mitchell to repentance. I could have
reasoned with her on the matter, and shown her that she was not merely
a thief, but a thief of the worst kind, a Judas who robbed the poor,
and so robbed God. I could have shown her how cruel she was--"

"Please, sir," interrupted Turkey, "I don't think after all she did it
for herself. I do believe," he went on, and my father listened, "that
Wandering Willie is some relation of hers. He is the only poor person,
almost the only person except Davie, I ever saw her behave kindly to.
He was there last night, and also, I fancy, that other time, when
Ranald got such a fright. She has poor relations somewhere, and sends
the meal to them by Willie. You remember, sir, there were no old
clothes of Allister's to be found when you wanted them for Jamie
Duff."

"You may be right, Turkey--I dare say you are right. I hope you are,
for though bad enough, that would not be quite so bad as doing it for
herself."

"I am very sorry, father," I said; "I beg your pardon."

"I hope it will be a lesson to you, my boy. After what you have done,
rousing every bad and angry passion in her, I fear it will be of no
use to try to make her be sorry and repent. It is to her, not to me,
you have done the wrong. I have nothing to complain of for
myself--quite the contrary. But it is a very dreadful thing to throw
difficulties in the way of repentance and turning from evil works."

"What can I do to make up for it?" I sobbed.

"I don't see at this moment what you can do. I will turn it over in my
mind. You may go now."

Thereupon Turkey and I walked away, I to school, he to his cattle. The
lecture my father had given us was not to be forgotten. Turkey looked
sad, and I felt subdued and concerned.

Everything my father heard confirmed the tale we had told him. But the
Kelpie frustrated whatever he may have resolved upon with regard to
her: before he returned she had disappeared. How she managed to get
her chest away, I cannot tell. I think she must have hid it in some
outhouse, and fetched it the next night. Many little things were
missed from the house afterwards, but nothing of great value, and
neither she nor Wandering Willie ever appeared again. We were all
satisfied that poor old