ng as active as it would otherwise
have been, in recalling the terrible stories of ghosts and dead people
with which she was far too familiar. She soon got into bed, and, as a
precautionary measure, buried her head under the clothes before she
began to say her prayers, which, under the circumstances, she had
thought she might be excused for leaving till she had lain down. But
her prayers were suddenly interrupted by a terrible noise of scrambling
and scratching and scampering in the very room beside her.

"I tried to cry oot," she said afterwards, "for I kent 'at it was
rottans; but my tongue booed i' my mou' for fear, and I cudna speak ae
word."

The child's fear of rats amounted to a frenzied horror. She dared not
move a finger. To get out of bed with those creatures running about the
room was as impossible as it was to cry out. But her heart did what her
tongue could not do--cried out with a great and bitter cry to one who
was more ready to hear than Robert and Nancy Bruce. And what her heart
cried was this:

"O God, tak care o' me frae the rottans."

There was no need to send an angel from heaven in answer to this little
one's prayer: the cat would do. Annie heard a scratch and a mew at the
door. The rats made one frantic scramble and were still.

"It's pussy!" she cried, recovering the voice for joy that had failed
her for fear.

Fortified by her arrival, and still more by the feeling that she was a
divine messenger sent to succour her because she had prayed, she sprang
out of bed, darted across the room, and opened the door to let her in.
A few moments and she was fast asleep, guarded by God's angel, the cat,
for whose entrance she took good care ever after to leave the door
ajar.

There are ways of keeping the door of the mind also, ready as it is to
fall to, ajar for the cat.

CHAPTER IX.

"Noo, Annie, pit on yer bonnet, an' gang to the schuil wi' the lave
(rest); an' be a good girrl."

This was the Bruce's parting address to Annie, before he left the
kitchen for the shop, after breakfast and worship had been duly
observed; and having just risen from his knees, his voice, as he
stooped over the child, retained all the sanctity of its last
occupation. It was a quarter to ten o'clock, and the school was some
five minutes distant.

With a flutter of fearful hope, Annie obeyed. She ran upstairs, made
herself as tidy, as she could, smoothed her hair, put on her bonnet,
and had been waiting