a tinker's curse. She sells hersel' an' it's no
worth while complainin' if the bargain turns oot a rotten yin.

"If every woman had plenty of honest work, there wad be nae fancy women,
for they wadna ned do it. Guid day, Leebie. Maybe you'll think I'm
strange a wee an' maybe so I am. You micht think I'm daft; an' maybe so
I am. But after a while when you get time to think, you'll maybe feel
that you hae heard mair soond sense oot o' Mag Robertson when she was
mad than ever she spoke when she was supposed to be wise. Guid day,
Leebie. Think ower a' I have said. I'm no gaun to hurt you; but I'm gaun
to tak' Black Jock oot o' your clutches as shair as daith. You've had
your innins too; but it has been a dam'd short yin. I've had mine, an'
the game is feenished noo. It's time the hale thing was totaled up so
that we can see wha is the winner. I've been maybe playin' a losin'
game, Leebie, but noo we'll ken afore lang. Guid day, Leebie. I'm off,"
and she was out of the door leaving Leebie speechless with fear and
amazement.

Mag flew down the brae to the pit almost running, while Leebie and other
neighbors looked after her with a strange dread at their hearts.

When Mag arrived at the pit she asked a boy if Walker was up the pit yet
for his breakfast.

"I dinna' think so," replied the boy. "He's kind o' late this mornin';
but there's the bell chappit three," he said as the signal was made from
the bottom that men were about to come up. "That'll likely be him coming
up."

The boy had no sooner spoken, than with a mad rush Mag darted forward,
and opening the gates at the "low scaffold," where no one was near,
being situated below the pit-head proper, with a loud scream she hurled
herself down the shaft.

"God Almichty!" roared the engineman who saw all from the engine house,
as he rushed out of the door, calling to the pit-head workers. "Mag
Robertson has flung hersel' doon the shank!" and immediately all was
consternation.

The engine keeper had just been in the act of signaling down to Walker,
who was ready to ascend when he saw the flying figure dart forward and
fling herself into the yawning abyss.

Walker, standing at the foot of the shaft waiting for the answering
signal from above, heard the noise and the rush of Mag's body as it
bumped from side to side in its mad descent, and starting back, he was
just in time to get clear as the mangled mass of rags and blood and
pulpy flesh fell with a loud splashy thud at