"Poor lad!" said Sam'l gloomily, regarding the newcomer.

"Poor heart!" muttered Tammas. While the Master's face softened
visibly. Yet there looked little to pity in this jolly, rocking lad with
the tousle of light hair and fresh, rosy countenance.

"G'mornin', Mister Moore! Morn'n, Tammas! Morn'n, Sam'l!" he
panted as he passed; and ran on through the hay-carpeted yard,
round the corner of the stable, and into the house.

In the kitchen, a long room with red-tiled floor and latticed
windows, a woman, white-aproned and frail-faced, was bustling
about her morning business. To her skirts clung a sturdy,
bare-legged boy; while at the oak table in the centre of the room a
girl with brown eyes and straggling hair was seated before a basin
of bread and milk.

"So yo've coom at last, David!" the woman cried, as the boy
entered; and, bending, greeted him with a tender, motherly
salutation, which he returned as affectionately. "I welly thowt yo'd
forgot us this mornin'. Noo sit you' doon beside oor Maggie." And
soon he, too, was engaged in a task twin to the girl's.

The two children munched away in silence, the little bare-legged
boy watching them, the while, critically. Irritated by this prolonged
stare, David at length turned on him.

"Weel, little Andrew," he said, speaking in that paternal fashion in
which one small boy loves to address another. "Weel, ma little lad,