e clock seemed to have gained in
loudness, and so, too, the purring of the cat, as it rubbed itself
against his leg, first on one side and then the other, drawing its
sleek, furry side along his ankle, turning back again, and occasionally
looking up into his face for the recognition which it vainly tried to
win.

The fire burned low in the grate as Nellie busied herself with washing
the dishes; while outside the loud cries of the children, playing on the
green, mingled occasionally with a clink, as the steel quoits fell upon
each other, telling of some enthusiastic players, who were practicing
for the local games. Loud cries of encouragement broke from the
supporters, and Geordie and Nellie heard all these--even the plaintive
wail of a child crying in a house a few doors farther up the "row," and
the mother's attempts to soothe it into forgetfulness of its temporary
pain or disappointment.

The little apartment seemed to have become suddenly cheerless. Nellie
felt the silence most oppressive, for she was wondering how he was
taking it all. Soon, however, he rose and reached for his cap. Looking
at his wife with eyes that set all her fears at rest--for she saw pride
in them, pride in her and the way she had acted--he said:--

"Thank ye, Nellie; ye are a' the woman I always thocht ye was, an' I'll
see that nae dirty brute ever again gets the chance to insult ye," and
he was out of the door before she could question him further.

Geordie went straight to where Walker lived and knocked at the door. A
girl of fourteen came in answer to his knock, for Walker was a widower,
his wife having died shortly after the birth of their only child.

"Is yer faither in?" enquired Geordie quietly, hardly able to control
the raging anger in his heart.

"No, he's no' in," replied the girl. "Oh, is that you, Geordie?" she
asked, recognizing him in the darkness. "My father said when he went oot
that if ye cam' to the door, I was to tell ye he had nae places yet."

"That's a' richt," said Geordie, still very quietly. "Do ye ken onything
aboot where he is this nicht?"

"No, unless he's up in Sanny Robertson's, or maybe in Peter Fleming's."

"Thank ye," said Geordie, turning away, "I'll go up an' see if he is
there."

He knew that Peter Fleming was working that night, and had stopped on an
extra shift to repair a road, by special instructions from Walker; so
Geordie went direct to Fleming's house and knocked at the door. After an
int