ths' imprisonment was the sentence on Margaret Mactear or Wishart.
Then Wishart's sentence was pronounced--sixty days.

He and Baubie drew nearer to each other, Wishart with a despairing,
helpless look. Baubie's eyes looked like those of a hare taken in a gin.
Not one word had been said about her. She was not to go with her father.
What was to become of her? She was not long left in doubt as to her
fate.

"I will take the child, sheriff," said Miss Mackenzie eagerly and
anxiously. "I came here purposely to offer her a home in the refuge."

"Policeman, hand over the child to this lady at once," said the
sheriff.--

"Nothing could be better, Miss Mackenzie. It is very good of you to
volunteer to take charge of her."

Mrs. Wishart disappeared with a parting volley of blasphemy; her
husband, casting, as he went, a wistful look at Miss Mackenzie, shambled
fecklessly after the partner of his joys and sorrows; and the child
remained alone behind. The policeman took her by an arm and drew her
forward to make room for a fresh consignment of wickedness from the
cells at the side. Baubie breathed a short sigh as the door closed upon
her parents, shook back her hair, and looked up at Miss Mackenzie, as if
to announce her readiness and good will. Not one vestige of her internal
mental attitude could be gathered from her sun-and wind-beaten little
countenance. There was no rebelliousness, neither was there guilt. One
would almost have thought she had been told beforehand what was to
happen, so cool and collected was she.

"Now, Baubie, I am going to take you home. Come, child."

Pleased with her success, Miss Mackenzie, so speaking, took the little
waif's hand and led her out of the police-court into the High street.
She hardly dared to conjecture that it was Baubie Wishart's first visit
to that place, but as she stood on the entrance-steps and shook out her
skirts with a sense of relief, she breathed a sincere hope that it might
be the child's last.

A cab was waiting. Baubie, to her intense delight and no less
astonishment, was requested to occupy the front seat. Miss Mackenzie
gave the driver his order and got in, facing the red tartan bundle.

"Were you ever in a cab before?" asked Miss Mackenzie.

"Na, niver," replied Baubie in a rapt tone and without looking at her
questioner, so intent was she on staring out of the windows, between
both of which she divided her attention impartially.

They were driving down the Mo