ng of his own jackdaw, and his
cheeks, though thin, had a freshness of colour about them that was
brought there by the bracing breezes of our native hills.

The class was at the Latin exercises, for Latin formed part of our
education, and I could hear Jessie Grey repeating a conjugation. I
saw Tom Kinlay looking absently towards the window where I stood,
and fearing that he would notice me, I moved a step nearer the
door. Then I heard Mr. Drever speak.

"Kinlay," said he, "finish the subjunctive mood, where Jessie Grey
left off."

Tom's trembling voice betrayed his ignorance of the-lesson.

"Regor, I am ruled; regeris, thou--"

"No, no," interrupted the master. "What are you thinking of, boy?
That's the indicative mood. I asked for the subjunctive. Take your
hands out of your pockets, sir, and don't stand there glowering at
the whaling ships. They'll not be away till afternoon. Now, the
subjunctive mood?"

"I can't say it, sir. I could not get it into my head," whined Tom.

"Can't! do you say? Can't! Was there ever such a word?--Here, you,
Halcro Ericson, finish the--Now, where's that lad? Has he not come
to the school yet?"

"No, sir," replied two or three voices.

Now that the schoolmaster's attention had been so drawn to my
absence, I felt more than ever reluctant to enter.

"Where is he? Does anyone know?" asked Mr. Drever.

"Dinna ken, sir," was the weak response.

Then Tom Kinlay, anxious, I suppose, to retrieve his lost ground,
droned out: "He's away down at the shore side, sir. I saw him
fishing."

"Ah! s-sneak!" hissed one of the boys near him; "what for need you
tell?"

"Now, now!" said the master quietly. "None of that. Get along with
the lesson."

He glanced along the row of faces before him.

"Thora Kinlay," he said, "finish the conjugation where Jessie Grey
left off."

I was again at the window.

Mr. Drever looked towards a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl who stood
directly opposite to him. At her throat there was a cowslip--a rare
flower in Orkney. She wore a rough, homespun frock, as all the
other girls did; but, for some reason which I cannot explain, Thora
Kinlay was quite unlike her companions. Such was the refined
gentleness of her nature that I can compare her only with the
tern--the most beautiful, I believe, of all our sea birds.

"Regerer, I might be ruled; regereris, thou mightst be ruled," she
began, and as she repeated the conjugation, I listened with
attention not unmi