arms; "this is Alec, that I tell't ye aboot. He's richt guid to
me. Alec, here's Dooie, 'at I like better nor onybody i' the warl'."

And she turned and kissed the bronzed face, which was a clean face,
notwithstanding the contrary appearance given to it by a beard of three
days' growth, which Annie's kiss was too full of love to mind.

Annie would have been yet more ready to tell Dowie and Alec each who
the other was, had she not been occupied in her own mind with a
discovery she had made. For had not those verses given evident delight
to the company--Alec among the rest? Had he not applauded loudest of
all?--Was there not here something she could do, and so contribute to
the delight of the workmen, Alec and Willie, and thus have her part in
the boat growing beneath their hands? She would then be no longer a
tolerated beholder, indebted to their charity for permission to enjoy
their society, but a contributing member of the working community--if
not working herself, yet upholding those that wrought. The germ of all
this found itself in her mind that moment, and she resolved before next
night to be able to emulate Rory.

Dowie carried her home in his arms, and on the way she told him all
about the kindness of Alec and his mother. He asked her many questions
about the Bruces; but her patient nature, and the instinctive feeling
that it would make Dowie unhappy, withheld her from representing the
discomforts of her position in strong colours. Dowie, however, had his
own thoughts on the matter.

"Hoo are ye the nicht, Mr Dow?" said Robert, who treated him with oily
respect, because he was not only acquainted with all Annie's affairs,
but was a kind of natural, if not legal, guardian of her and her
property. "And whaur did ye fa' in wi' this stray lammie o' oors?"

"She's been wi' me this lang time," answered Dow, declining, with
Scotch instinct, to give an answer, before he understood all the drift
of the question. A Scotchman would always like the last question first.

"She's some ill for rinnin' oot," said Bruce, with soft words addressed
to Dow, and a cutting look flung at Annie, "withoot speirin' leave, and
we dinna ken whaur she gangs; and that's no richt for lass-bairns."

"Never ye min' her, Mr Bruce," replied Dow. "I ken her better nor you,
no meanin' ony offence, seein' she was i' my airms afore she was a week
auld. Lat her gang whaur she likes, and gin she does what she sudna do,
I'll tak a' the wyte o' 't."