of them led him by the old mill.

I was well aware, from an anecdote related to me by Penny, that John
Farquhar, the lad's father, was a stern disciplinarian. Elsie's elder
sister, Jean, a lass of nineteen, had once happened to return home from
confession rather later than usual one Saturday evening, owing to the
exceptionally large number awaiting their turn in the church. On
reaching home about half-past eight on a spring evening, she became aware
of her father standing in the dusk at the garden gate, holding an
ominously slender walking-stick in his hand. With this he proceeded to
deal several far from gentle strokes upon the girl's shoulders,
regardless of her frightened remonstrances and explanations.

"I dinna' care wha ye come frae, chaipel or nae chaipel; ye'll nae be
alloowed oot at sic an hoor!"

In the light of this circumstance it was not difficult to understand
Aleck's desire to reach Fanellan punctually. But to return to his
adventure.

As he approached the old mill he became aware of a light shining from one
of the windows. Thinking that some traveling tinkers had taken up free
lodgings there, he was preparing to pass as quickly and quietly as
possible, to avoid drawing attention upon himself and delaying his
progress. But, to his astonishment, the light suddenly went out, and by
the time he reached the house it was wrapped in darkness. There was
little moonlight (spite of Penny's indignant insinuations), for it was a
cloudy night, and the lad would have had difficulty in finding his way
had it not been so familiar. Curiosity urged Aleck to investigate the
mystery of the light, and, forgetful for the moment of his father's