uainted with the bastard emotion
of self-pity, he would have wept; as he was unaware of hardship in
his lot, discontent in his heart, or discord in his feeling, his
emotion was one of unmingled delight, and embodied itself in a
perfect smile.

"Come, cratur, an' I'll gie ye a piece: ye'll aiblins un'erstan'
that!" said Donal, as he turned to leave the corn for the grass,
where Hornie was eating with the rest like the most innocent of
hum'le (hornless) animals. Gibbie obeyed, and followed, as, with
slow step and downbent face, Donal led the way. For he had tucked
his club under his arm, and already his greedy eyes were fixed on
the book he had carried all the time, nor did he take them from it
until, followed in full and patient content by Gibbie, he had almost
reached the middle of the field, some distance from Hornie and her
companions, when, stopping abruptly short, he began without lifting
his head to cast glances on this side and that.

"I houp nane o' them's swallowed my nepkin!" he said musingly. "I'm
no sure whaur I was sittin'. I hae my place i' the beuk, but I
doobt I hae tint my place i' the gerse."

Long before he had ended, for he spoke with utter deliberation,
Gibbie was yards away, flitting hither and thither like a butterfly.
A minute more and Donal saw him pounce upon his bundle, which he
brought to him in triumph.

"Fegs! ye're no the gowk I took ye for," said Donal meditatively.

Whether Gibbie took the remark for a compliment, or merely was
gratified that Donal was pleased, the result was a merry laugh.

The bundle had in it a piece of hard cheese, such as Gibbie had
already made acquaintance with, and a few quarters of cakes. One of
these Donal broke in two, gave Gibbie the half, replaced the other,
and sat down again to his book--this time with his back against the
fell-dyke dividing the grass from the corn. Gibbie seated himself,
like a Turk, with his bare legs crossed under him, a few yards off,
where, in silence and absolute content, he ate his piece, and
gravely regarded him. His human soul had of late been starved, even
more than his body--and that from no fastidiousness; and it was
paradise again to be in such company. Never since his father's
death had he looked on a face that drew him as Donal's. It was fair
of complexion by nature, but the sun had burned it brown, and it was
covered with freckles. Its forehead was high, with a mass of foxy
hair over it, and under it tw