"It was wrang to try it. Folks shouldna tempt Providence."

"The cakes baked weel to-day."

"Ay, they are gude eating."

Then she could think of nothing more to say, and she washed the cups, and
watched the dark, sad man bending over the fire. A vulgar woman, a selfish
woman, would have interrupted that solemn session at her hearth. She would
have turned Inquisitor, and tortured him with questions. "What's the
matter?" "Is there anything wrong?" "Are you sick?" etc., etc. But when
Maggie saw that her brother was not inclined to talk to her, she left him
alone to follow out the drift of his own thoughts. He seemed unconscious
of her presence, and when her active house duties were over, she quietly
pulled her big wheel forward, and began to spin.

The turfs burned red, the cruisie burned low, the wheel "hummed"
monotonously, and Maggie stepped lightly to-and-fro before it. In an hour
the silence became oppressive, she was sleepy, she wished Davie would
speak to her. She laid her fingers on the broad wooden band and was just
going to move, when the inner door was opened, and the stranger stood at
it. His pause was but a momentary one, but the room was all picture to
him, especially the tall fair woman with her hand upon the big wheel, and
her face, sensitive and questioning, turned toward her brother.

"David Promoter."

"Ay, sir." He moved slowly like a man awakening from a sleep, but very
quickly shook off the intense personality of his mood, and turned to the