well that she was thoughtless, and unable in her own robust strength to understand the fatigue and listlessness of her little brother. Elsie told him he would run well enough without shoes and stockings, but their mother had most particularly charged him that he was never to take them off without special permission, for he was too delicate to run the risk of damping his feet. Elsie and Duncan thought it great nonsense, and both pitied and despised Robbie for being such a miserable molly-coddle.

"Now here's mother herself coming after us," cried Duncan, anxiously scanning Elsie's face to see how she would act now.

But Elsie was still unflurried. Duncan almost held his breath, for there were signs of a storm. Mrs. MacDougall's face was red, her mouth ominously screwed up; she waved her hand angrily towards them—an action which Elsie pretended not to see.

"Where have you been all this time, madam?" she burst forth, when they reached her. "I will teach you to hasten your footsteps. Did I not send Robbie to the gate to beckon you to be quick? You suppose you may do as you like, but you are mistaken, you lazy, ill-behaved wench. The new frock I had bought you shall be given to Nannie Cameron, and you shall wear your old one to the kirk. How will that suit your vanity? And you may be off to bed now directly, without any supper. There are twigs enough for a birch rod, my lady, if bed does not bring you to a better frame of mind. Run in now, and don't let me see your face before six o'clock to-morrow morning."

What could Elsie be thinking of? She did not run. Robbie looked at her in piteous distress; Duncan was beside himself. He cast a beseeching glance at Elsie, a momentary one of resentful anger at his mother, an impatient one at Robbie, the unfortunate messenger of their mother's anger.

Then a look of great determination settled over their mother's face. "Do you dare me?" she cried. "Did I ever threaten and not perform? Will you compel me to whip you? Then if you would not have it so, hasten your footsteps at once."

Duncan caught hold of Elsie's hand and tried to pull her, but those sturdy, legs had the very spirit of obstinacy in them. "Be quiet," she said; "I want to be whipped."

"Mother means it," Duncan cried. "She has never done it before, but she will now, Elsie."

Elsie had often dared her mother, but never so flagrantly as this; and Mrs. MacDougall was not a woman to be dared with impunity. Elsie was going a little too far; every one saw that except herself.

"Stay here," Mrs. MacDougall said sternly to the two boys when they entered the cottage kitchen. Then she took Elsie by the shoulder, and marched her up the few stairs. Robbie and Duncan stood stock still, looking blankly at each other.

he came running towards them (p. 3).

Presently there came from the room overhead a low sobbing sound, and a minute or two afterwards Mrs. MacDougall appeared, stern and frowning.

It was an unhappy supper they sat down to. Robbie was very wretched, and as for Duncan, each mouthful threatened to choke him. Mrs. MacDougall wore a troubled face. After it was ended Duncan crept away to his sister's room.

"I knew mother would," he said, sympathisingly, "and I know she'll do it again, if you do it. You wouldn't, would you, Elsie? Mother never whipped you before, never in all our lives, Elsie, but you didn't care. What was the matter with you?"

"You little stupid!" Elsie replied patronisingly; "I won't fetch the milk at all, not if mother whips me every day. I don't care. You don't know what I know, and you don't know what I'm going to do, but I know myself; and you little cowardy custard, you don't know what secret I could tell you if I liked."

CHAPTER II.—WHAT ELSIE FOUND.

D
uncan crept away to his own little bedchamber with an uneasy feeling of trouble. It was next to Elsie's, separated from it only by a little square bit of landing, and, like hers, was a tiny apartment under the roof, with a ceiling of the bare rafters which supported the tiles. In each was a small wooden bedstead, a deal stand, with basin and jug of coarse white earthenware, and a small deal box, which served both to keep clothes in and as a chair.

Everything was scrupulously clean, even to the dimity vallance that hung across the low window. In autumn and winter the bleak wind whistled through the chimneys and rattled the casements in a way that would have prevented a town-bred child from sleeping, and up in those bare rooms there was cold enough to pinch you black and blue; but Elsie and Duncan had never thought much of that, for they had been accustomed to it from babyhood, and only threw on their thick homespun garments in greater haste.

Just now the weather was unusually hot, and the little lofts had gone to the other extreme, and were more like ovens than anything else. Duncan had scarcely taken off his jacket when he heard Elsie calling. He ran to see what she wanted. "I s'pose you won't go telling any tales about what I said just now," she exclaimed shortly.

"Of course I shan't," Duncan replied, indignantly; "but what was it you said? There wasn't anything to tell tales about except that you said you weren't going to fetch the milk."

Elsie's mind was so full of her own affairs that it was quite a shock to her to find that Duncan had taken so little heed of her words. "It's a good thing I'm not such a silly baby as you are," she said, contemptuously—a way in which she so often spoke to Duncan that he quite believed Elsie to be the cleverest, most daring, and bravest creature in existence.

"This place is like a furnace," she cried, irritably throwing the sheet which covered her down on to the floor. "Why should I be poked up here and Robbie sleep downstairs with mother and grandmother, eh, Duncan?"

"I s'pose it's because he always does," Duncan replied dubiously.

"Stupid-head!" cried Elsie. "And why does he always?"

Duncan thought a minute. "P'raps it's because he's the youngest, and was the baby when you and me was bigger," he answered presently.

Elsie turned over with an angry grunt. "It isn't anything of the sort," she cried; "and you might have known I didn't want you to answer me."

"I thought you asked me," Duncan said, in much perplexity.

"You ought to have said you didn't know, and then you'd have told the truth," Elsie said shortly. "Hush! there's some one coming up. Crawl under the bed, in case they come in."

A slow dragging footstep came up the steep stairs, and presently a voice called softly, "Dooncan?"

Duncan began to crawl out from under the bedstead, answering as he did so, "Yes, grandmother, here I am."

Elsie dangled her foot over the side of the bed, and gave Duncan a pretty sharp kick as he emerged.

"What's that for?" he stopped to ask.

"Only because you're such a ridiculously silly little softie, that nobody could put a grain of sense into your head," Elsie replied, angrily. "Supposing it had been mother. A nice row you'd have got us into. Why couldn't you keep quiet, and she'd have thought we were both in bed and asleep."

"But I knew it was grandmother's voice," said Duncan.

"Dooncan," called the voice again, "I want you."

Duncan opened the door this time. His grandmother did not seem to notice that he was in a forbidden place, but asked,