ight of
high degree.

'The forester of Elmond wood was I, yet as I saw her standing by
the white-thorn tree I loved her well. And ere many days had gone
by thy mother loved me too, and I carried her away to our
greenwood home.

'Dear to your mother are her seven little sons, dear to her, too,
am I. Yet oft will the tears run down her cheek as she dreams of
her old home and her father the earl.'

Then upward glanced the little wee son as he cried aloud, 'I will
shoot the linnet there on the tree and the larks as they wing
their flight, and I will carry them home to my mother dear that
she may weep no more.'

Yet neither with linnet nor with lark could her little wee son
woo the smiles back to his dear mother's face.

Now a day came when Hynde Etin in his greenwood home thought the
hours passed but slow, and that same day he took his gun and his
dog and off he went alone to hunt. His seven little wee sons he
left at home with their mother.

'Mother,' said the eldest little son, 'mother, will ye be angry
with me an I tell you what I heard?'

'Nay now, my little wee son,' said she, 'I will never be cross
with you.'

'I heard the church bells ring as I went hunting over the hill,
mother. Clear did they ring and sweet.'

'Ah, would I had heard them too, my little dear son,' cried
Margaret, 'for never have I been in the holy church for twelve
long years and more, and never have I taken my seven bonny sons
to be christened, as indeed I would they were. In the holy church
will my father be, and there would I fain go too.'

Then the little young Etin, for that was the name of Margaret's
eldest son, took his mother's hand and called his six little
brothers, and together they went through Elmond wood as fast as
ever they could go. It may be that the mother led the way, it may
be that so it chanced, but soon they had left the greenwood far
behind and stood on an open heath. And there, before them, stood
a castle.

Margaret looked and Margaret smiled. She knew she was standing
once again before her father's gate.

She took three rings from her pocket and gave them to her eldest
wee boy.

'Give one,' she said, 'to the porter. He is proud, but so he sees
the ring, he will open the gate and let you enter.

'Give another to the butler, my little wee son, and he will show
you where ye are to go.

'And the third ye shall hand to the minstrel. You will see him
with his harp, standing in the hall. It may be he will pl