lifting the curtain a
little at the side, gazed sideways up the row, reporting to Phemie
everything that happened.

"He's kicking her, Phemie. Eh, the muckle beast that he is. My God,
he'll kill her afore he's finished wi' her. He's hitting her on the face
every time she tries to rise an' gaein' her anither kick aye when she
fa's doon again. Oh! my God, will naebody interfere. He'll kill her as
sure as death," and she stepped back with blanched face sickened at the
spectacle she had described.

"Here she comes, Annie," said her neighbor after a few moments. "My!
what a face. Dinna look you at her," cried Phemie in alarm pushing back
Annie who had moved near to the window to get a better view. "In God's
name, woman, dinna you look at her. You shouldna ha' looked at onything
that has taken place. If onything is wrang wi' your bairn when it is
born I'll never forgi'e' mysel' for lettin' you look at this business at
a'. Gang awa' back an' sit down an' try an' forget a' aboot what you hae
seen. Dinna look up till she gangs back intae the hoose," and the old
woman kept Annie sitting back at the bedside in the corner farthest from
the window until Mag staggered to her home, her face streaming with
blood.

Not a soul was in sight as Mag returned; but many a pair of eyes watched
her from behind curtained windows, and expressions of sympathy were
common even though her relations with Walker were common knowledge in
the village, and had been censured by everyone in consequence for her
misdeeds. They all knew why Mag had "opened out" on Walker that morning
and the reason she had been set aside for another who pleased his fancy.

Tam Granger and his wife had recently come into the district from a
neighboring village, where Leebie's name had been coupled with a local
draper's or packman's in some scandal. Black Jock had soon got into
contact with them and finding them willing tools he had deserted Sanny
and Mag Robertson. All the contracts were taken from Sanny and given to
Tam, and it was this that had made Mag watch for Walker coming in for
his breakfast, determined to have it out with him, with the result which
is chronicled above.

The encounter between Mag and Black Jock was the talk of the village.
Mag was mad with rage, and having washed her bruised face, she ramped
out and in all day, washing the floor, clattering among dishes and
scouring pots and pans. She was working off her anger and swearing and
threatening, until