a trifle belated.

As she returned she said "Shoo!" at every tangled bush, and
flapped her apron as if to scare whatever curious wild fowl might
have left behind it in its nest under the broom such curious nest-
eggs as two great books full of strange, bewitched-looking
printing, and a note-book of curious and interesting writings.
Then, with a half sigh of disappointment, Winsome Charteris sat
herself down to look into this matter. Meg Kissock from the bridge
end showed signs of coming up to see what she was about; but
Winsome imperiously checked the movement.

"Bide where you are, Meg; I'll be down with you presently."

She turned over the great Hebrew Bible reverently. "A. Welsh" was
written on the fly-leaf. She had a strange idea that she had seen
it before. It seemed somehow thrillingly familiar.

"That's the minister's Hebrew Bible book, no doubt," she said.
"For that's the same kind of printing as between the double verses
of the hundred-and-nineteenth Psalm in my grandfather's big
Bible," she continued, sapiently shaking her head till the crispy
ringlets tumbled about her eyes, and she had impatiently to toss
them aside.

She laid the Bible down and peeped into the other strange-looking
book. There were single words here of the same kind as in the
other, but the most part was in ordinary type, though in a
language of which she could make nothing. The note-book was a
resource. It was at least readable, and Winsome Charteris began