"Noo that the collyshangie's dune," quoth Mirren Douglas, "ye micht gie us a word o' advice what we should do wi' the bairns. But come oot by. They are a' to their beds doon the hoose. And we can be takin' a look at the blossoms as we gang." "We are to plant cabbage here next year, Mistress Fraser says!" cried Muckle Alick. "Havers!" said his wife. But Mistress Fraser gave Alick a look which said as plain as print, "Have you not had enough?" "Heard ye what the name o' the puir wandering things might be?" asked Mistress Fraser. "Aye," said Mirren, briskly, "I hae heard a' aboot it. Their name is Kavannah. Their faither gaed awa' to Liverpool a whilie since to seek wark. And the bairns has left their mither in Edinburgh to seek their faither. And I judge their mither is a gye ill yin." "Did she tell ye that?" asked Muckle Alick, quickly. "Na, but I jalloused it!"[5] said his wife. "And hoo in the world could ye jallouse sic a thing as that?" said he. "Just the way ye jallouse that the express is comin' when ye hear the whistle, and the signal draps to 'clear,' ye muckle nowt!" said his wife, taking what is known as a personal example. "The lassie didna tell me yae single word, but the boy showed me an _arr_-mark on his temple. 'The awfu' woman did that!' says he. "'And wha's the awfu' woman, my bonny man?' says I." "The lassie tried to turn him, but he oot wi' it. 'It's just my mither!' says he. And if ye didna caa that a gye near signal, I ken na what is. It's as plain as findin' bits o' a dog collar in the sausage or a burn troot in the milk!" But her husband did not laugh, as he usually did at her sayings. His own humour was not of that kind, but slow, ponderous, and deliberate. "What are ye standin' there gapin' at?" demanded his wife. Alick held up his hand. His wife knew that this was a signal that he wished to be left to think undisturbed a little longer. So she hurried Mistress Fraser along to look at what she called her "nasty-hurcheons." Sandy's mental machinery, like his bodily, was slow to set in motion, but it worked with great momentum when once it was set a-going. Muckle Alick was putting two and two together. "I ken a' aboot it," he said at length, when the process was complete. "We will need to be awesome careful. Thae bairns' faither never got to Liverpool; consequently it's little use them gaun there to seek him. He's either in his grave or the Edinburgh Infirmary. D'ye mind yon tramp man that gat the hurt in his head last spring, by hiding and sleepin' in the cattle waggons when they were shuntin'? His name was James Kavannah. I'se warrant he was the bairns' faither!" Mirren Douglas gave Muckle Alick a bit clap on the shoulder. "Whiles ye are nane so stupid, man," she said, "I believe ye are richt." "And he was on his road to Liverpool, too," added Alick, "for when he was oot o' his mind he cried on aboot that a' the time. And aye the owerword o' his sang was, 'She'll no get me in Liverpool!'"