t
for."

"I tell yo'," David pursued stubbornly, "an it had not bin for me yo'
wouldn't have no sister by noo. She'd be lyin', she would, pore little
lass, cold as ice, pore mite, wi' no breath in her. An' when yo' dad
coom home there'd be no Wee Anne to rin to him, and climb on his knee,
and yammer to him, and beat his face. An he'd say, 'What's gotten to oor
Annie, as I left wi' yo'?' And then yo'd have to tell him, 'I never took
no manner o' fash after her, dad; d'reckly yo' back was turned, I--'"

The girl sat down, buried her face in her apron, and indulged in the
rare luxury of tears.

"Yo're the cruellest mon as iver was, David M'Adam," she sobbed, rocking
to and fro.

He was at her side in a moment, tenderly bending over her.

"Eh, Maggie, but I am sorry, lass--"

She wrenched away from beneath his hands.

"I hate yo'," she cried passionately.

He gently removed her hands from before her tear-stained face.

"I was nob'but laffin', Maggie," he pleaded; "say yo' forgie me."

"I don't," she cried, struggling. "I think yo're the hatefullest lad as
iver lived."

The moment was critical; it was a time for heroic measures.

"No, yo' don't, lass," he remonstrated; and, releasing her wrists,
lifted the little drooping face, wet as it was, like the earth after
a spring shower, and, holding it between his two big hands, kissed it
twice.

"Yo' coward!" she cried, a flood of warm red crimsoning her cheeks; and
she struggled vainly to be free.

"Yo' used to let me," he reminded her in aggrieved tones.

"I niver did!" she cried, more indignant than truthful.

"Yes, yo' did, when we was little uns; that is, yo' was allus for
kissin' and I was allus agin it. And noo," with whole-souled bitterness,
"I mayn't so much as keek at yo' over a stone wall."

However that might be, he was keeking at her from closer range now; and
in that position--for he held her firmly still--she could not help
but keek back. He looked so handsome--humble for once; penitent yet
reproachful; his own eyes a little moist; and, withal, his old audacious
self--that, despite herself, her anger grew less hot.

"Say yo' forgie me and I'll let yo' go."

"I don't, nor niver shall," she answered firmly; but there was less
conviction in her heart than voice.

"Iss yo' do, lass," he coaxed, and kissed her again.

She struggled faintly.

"Hoo daur yo'?" she cried through her tears. But he was not to be moved.

"Will yo' noo?" he asked.