shoulder. There was a creepy feeling in the back of her neck, and
Jock's eyes were as round as door-knobs. The Shepherd laughed at
them.

"Good children have little to fear from the fairy folk," he said.
"Come, now, your eyes are fair sticking out of your heads. I'll
give you a skirl on the bagpipes if Jeanie'll bring them from the
closet. Jock, stir up the fire, and Alan, give your clothes a
turn and see if they are drying."

The children ran to do these errands, and in a moment the fire
was flaming gayly up the chimney, chasing the murky shadows out
of the corners and making the room bright and cheerful again,
while the Shepherd, tucking the bag under his arm, stirred the
echoes on old Ben Vane with the wild strains of "Bonnie Doon" and
"Over the Water to Charlie." At last he struck up the music of
the Highland Fling, and the three children sprang to the middle
of the floor and danced the wild Scotch dance together.

Just as the fun was at its height, and Alan, looking very
handsome in his kilts, was doing the heel and toe with great
energy, there came a loud rap at the door. Instantly everything
stopped, just as short as Cinderella's ball did when the clock
struck twelve, and the Shepherd, laying aside his bagpipes,
opened the door. There stood a man with a bundle on his arm.
"Eppie McLean sent these clothes to the lad," he said, handing
the bundle to the Shepherd, "and he's to come back along with
me." Alan took the bundle, thanked the man, and disappeared with
Jock into "the room," where he changed his clothes, returning the
kilts, with regret, to Jock. "I've had just a grand day," he said