"Jacky Morison's been up this morning already, Miss Anne," said Mrs. Melder. "Indeed, and ye may think muckle o' yoursel, Lilie my woman--baith leddy and maid comin anceerrant to see ye, the first thing after their home-coming. She's an awfu' strange lassie yon, Miss Anne; ane would think she had gotten some word o' the bairn that naebody else kens. She was aye unco fond o' her, but now it's _Miss_ Lilie every word." Strange indeed! these intuitive perceptions of Jacky's puzzled Anne greatly. "That was what they called Lilie at home," said the child thoughtfully. "Ay, listen till her; I dinna misdoubt it, Miss Anne--the folk that sent a' yon bonnie things, maun be weel off in this world." "Will you come and walk with me, Lilie?" said Anne: "see what a beautiful day it is." The child assented eagerly, and trying on her bonnet, Anne led her out. They went to the foot of the tree on which were carved the names of those two exiles--Norman and Marion. It was a fit resting-place for their sister and their child. Anne seated herself on the turf, and placed Lilie by her side. "Can you tell me where your home is, Lilie?" "Away yonder," said Lilie, "far away, over the sea." "And what like is it?" said Anne, "do you remember?" "A bonnie, bonnie place--where there's brighter light and warmer days; and grand flowers far bigger than any in Strathoran; but its lang, lang to sail, and whiles there were loud winds and storms, and Lilie wasna weel." "Would you like to go home, Lilie?" said Anne. "I would like to go to mamma. I would like to go to my own mamma; but--mamma doesna call yon place home." "What does she call it, Lilie?" "When mamma was putting Lilie into the big ship, she said Lilie was coming home; and maybe she would come hersel for Lilie." "And how did she look when she said that?" said Anne. The child began to cry. "She put down her head--my mamma's bonnie head--down into her hands, this way; and then she began to greet, like me--oh, my mamma!" Anne drew the little girl's head into her lap, and wiped away the tears. "You would be very glad to see mamma, Lilie, if she came here? she will come perhaps some day." "Do you ken my mamma?" said Lilie eagerly. "Did she tell you she was coming?" "No," said Anne, "but when she comes, you will take my hand, and say, 'Mamma, this is my friend;' will you not, and introduce me to her?" The child looked brightly up: "Eh, Lilie will be blythe! blythe!--but if mamma were coming, what would Lilie call you?" "You would call me aunt," said Anne, her eyes filling as she looked upon the little face lying on her knee. "Your Aunt Anne that found you out, when you came a little stranger to the Mill." Lilie rose to wind her small arms round Anne's neck. "But you're no Lilie's aunt--I wish you were Lilie's aunt--then you would take me to live at Merkland." "Would you like to live at Merkland, Lilie?"