"Here, lassie," she cried, "your father will like this. It is only
churned th' day." She rolled a pat of butter in a clean linen cloth,
laid it between two rhubarb leaves and set it in a small basket.

"Good-bye," said the girl as she kissed the dark cheek. "You're far too
kind to me."

"Poor lassie, poor lassie, I would I could be kinder. It's a good girl
you are, and a brave one."

"Not very brave, I fear," replied the girl, as she quickly turned away
and ran up the hill and out of sight.

"Poor motherless lassie," said Mrs. Boyle, looking after her with loving
eyes; "it's a heavy care she has, and the minister, poor man, he can't
see it. Well, well, she has the promise."




III

THE RAISING


The building of a bank-barn was a watershed in farm chronology. Toward
that event or from it the years took their flight. For many summers the
big boulders were gathered from the fields and piled in a long heap at
the bottom of the lane on their way to their ultimate destination, the