was desired.

The sounds of a struggle again commenced, mixed with Louise's
ejaculations:--"Now, now--dis vill do for you--_une fois_--vonce, twice,
trice round--dat vill do--quite sufficient to kill de giant, or Sir
Marmaduke himself. Now, my lady, I tink de ting is pretty vell done; I
vill trow her into de hedge--dere--now, let us go."

The two ladies went away, and Geordie rushed forward to the place where
they had thrown the child. It was still convulsed. He loosened the
necklace, which had been left by mistake, and blew strongly into the
child's mouth. He heard it sigh, and in a little time breathe; and,
carrying it with the greatest care, he took it home with him to his
mother's house.

"Whar hae ye been, man, and what is this ye hae in your airms?" said
Widow Willison to Geordie, when he went in.

"It's a wee bit birdie I fand in a nest amang the hedges o' Warriston,"
said Geordie. "Its mither didna seem to care aboot it, and I hae brought
it hame wi' me. Gie't a pickle crowdie, puir thing."

Astonished, and partly displeased, Widow Willison took the child out of
her son's arms, and seeing its face swoln and blue, and marks of
strangulation on its neck, her maternal sympathies arose, and she
applied all the articles of a mother's pharmacopoeia with a view to
restore it.

"But whar got ye the bairn, man?" she again inquired. "Gie us nane o'
yer nonsense about birds and hedges. Tell us the story sae as plain folk
can understand it."

"I hae already tauld ye," said Geordie, dryly and slowly; "and it's no
my intention at present to tell ye ony mair aboot it. Ye didna ask whar
_I_ came frae when ye got me first."

"An' wha's to bring up the bairn?" asked the mother, who knew it was in
vain to put the same question twice to Geordie.

"Ye didna ask that question at my faither when _I_ cam hame," replied
the stoic, with one of his peculiar looks; "but, if ye had, maybe ye
wadna hae got sae kind an answer as I'll gie ye: Geordie Willison will
pay for bringing up the bairn; and I'll no answer ony mair o' yer
questions."

Strictly did Geordie keep his word with his mother. He would tell
neither her nor his sister anything about the child. They knew his
temper and disposition, and gradually resigned an importunity which had
the effect of making him more obstinate. At night, when the child's
clothes were taken off, with a view to putting it to bed, Geordie got
hold of them and carried them off, unknown to his mot