rish, they said. But I could hae proved that my Eppie belonged
to the parish, and had a gude right to lie there wi' her kin. We were
near dane ere he took heed o' us, and it was ower late to speak then.
He only speired a question or twa, and then gaed awa'."

Then there was a long pause. Saunners sat looking into the fire,
sighing now and then, and clearing his throat as if he were ready to
begin again. When he turned toward her, Allison took to her
stocking-darning. She longed to ask him a question--but she dared not
do it, even if she could have uttered the words. Saunners went on:

"I thocht it queer-like of the man, but I would hardly have heeded it
but for that which followed. When his back was fairly turned there came
a wee wifie out o' the corner, where she had been watchin', and shook
her neive (fist) at him and ca'ed him ill names. It was like a curse
upon him. And she bade him go hame to his fine house, where he would
have to live his leefu' lane a' his days as a punishment for his
wickedness. I had a few words with her after that. She was unco
curious to hear about my Eppie, and how I came to lay her there. We
gaed through among the stanes thegither, and she had plenty to say about
ane and anither; and whiles she was sensible enough, and whiles I had my
doubts about it. Many a strange thing she told me gin I could only
mind."

Then Saunners sat silent again, thinking. Allison turned her face away
from the light.

Was the terrible old man saying all this with a purpose? Did he know
more than he told, and did he mean it for a warning? For it must have
been in the parish of Kilgower where he had laid down the body of his
wife. And it must have been Brownrig whom the "wee bowed wifie" had
cursed. She grew sick at the thought of what might be coming upon her;
but she put force upon herself, and spoke quietly about other matters.
Then the old man rose to go.

"I thocht maybe I might see John Beaton the nicht. Is he at hame, think
ye?" Allison shook her head.

"I havena heard of his being here, but he may have come for all that."

"Ye would be likely to ken," said Saunners, and then he went away.

Allison listened till the sound of his footsteps died in the distance,
then she rose and did what was still to be done in the house. She
barred the door, and covered the fire, and put out the lights, and went
softly up-stairs to the little room where Marjorie slumbered peacefully.
Then she sat