his tail
brushed the baby to the ground; and there she lay kicking fat legs to
heaven and calling on all her gods.

David, leaving the old dog to secure the warrior pig, ran round to her;
but he was anticipated. The whole matter had barely occupied a minute's
time; and Maggie, rushing from the kitchen, now had the child in her
arms and was hurrying back with her to the house.

"Eh, ma pet, are yo' hurted, dearie?" David could hear her asking
tearfully, as he crossed the yard and established himself in the door.

"Well," said he, in bantering tones, "yo'm a nice wench to ha' charge o'
oor Annie!"

It was a sore subject with the girl, and well he knew it. Wee Anne, that
golden-haired imp of mischief, was forever evading her sister-mother's
eye and attempting to immolate herself. More than once she had only been
saved from serious hurt by the watchful devotion of Owd Bob, who always
found time, despite his many labors, to keep a guardian eye on his
well-loved lassie. In the previous winter she had been lost on a bitter
night on the Muir Pike; once she had climbed into a field with the
Highland bull, and barely escaped with her life, while the gray dog held
the brute in check; but a little while before she had been rescued from
drowning by the Tailless Tyke; there had been numerous other mischances;
and now the present mishap. But the girl paid no heed to her tormentor
in her joy at finding the child all unhurt.

"Theer! yo' bain't so much as scratted, ma precious, is yo'?" she cried.
"Rin oot agin, then," and the baby toddled joyfully away.

Maggie rose to her feet and stood with face averted. David's eyes dwelt
lovingly upon her, admiring the pose of the neat head with its thatch of
pretty brown hair; the slim figure, and slender ankles, peeping modestly
from beneath her print frock.

"Ma word! if yo' dad should hear tell o' hoo his Anne--" he broke off
into a long-drawn whistle.

Maggie kept silence; but her lips quivered, and the flush deepened on
her cheek.

"I'm fear'd I'll ha' to tell him," the boy continued, "'Tis but ma
duty."

"Yo' may tell wham yo' like what yo' like," the girl replied coldly; yet
there was a tremor in her voice.

"First yo' throws her in the stream," David went on remorselessly; "then
yo' chucks her to the pig, and if it had not bin for me--"

"Yo', indeed!" she broke in contemptuously. "Yo'! 'twas Owd Bob reskied
her. Yo'd nowt' to do wi' it, 'cept lookin' on--'bout what yo're fi