Little Bessie, Alice Aytoun's maid, did not know what to make of that strange, thin, angular girl, with her dark keen face, and eccentric motions, and singular language. Bessie, plump, rosy and good-humored, looked on in wondering silence as Jacky sat on the carpet in the library, bent almost double over some mighty old volume from those heavy and well-filled shelves--was inclined to laugh sometimes, yet checking herself in mysterious reverence, revolved in her mind the possibility of Mrs. Catherine's frequent epithet "you elf"--having in it some shadow of truth. Bessie had read fairy tales in her day, and knew that in these authentic histories there were such things as changelings--could this strange Jacky be one? The flying footsteps, and bold leaps and climbings, which Bessie did not venture to emulate, gave some color to the supposition, so did these out-of-the-way studies and singular expressions; but Jacky withal was not malicious, nor evil-tempered, and Bessie paused before condemning her. On consulting Johnnie Halflin on the subject, she found him as much puzzled as herself. "For ye see," said Johnnie, "she was never at the schule--and look till her reading! I was three--four year at it mysel, the haill winter; for ye ken in this part, Bessie, it's no' like a toun--there's the beasts to herd all the summer and other turns, till the shearing's by; but I wad rather hae a day's kemping with that illwilly nowt that winna bide out o' the corn, than sit down to the books wi' Jacky. She kens best herself where she learnt it." "And look how she speaks," ejaculated Bessie. "Speaks! ye have not heard her get to her English--it's like listening to the leddies. No Mrs. Catherine ye see, for one canna think what words _she_ says--ye just ken when ye hear her, that ye maun do what ye're bidden in a moment; but Jacky! ye would think she got it a' out of books--whiles, when ye anger her--" "Eh, Johnnie! yonder she is, coming fleeing down the hill," cried little Bessie in alarm, as a flying figure paused on a ridge of the steep eminence above them, and drew itself back for a final race to the bottom. "Look! ye would think she never touched the ground." "Whist, whist," said Johnnie, apprehensively, "she can hear ony sound about the place, as quick as Oscar, and Oscar's the best watch in the parish--be quiet, Bessie." The youthful gossips were standing, during their gloaming hour of leisure, at the back of a knot of outhouses, barns, and stables, and Jacky came sweeping down upon them out of breath. "Are you there, Johnnie Halflin? is that you, Bessie? Has my mother been in the barn yet?--whisht, there she's speaking." "No, it's Jean," said the lad; "the cow's better, and Jean said she would never let on there had been onything the matter wi't, or else the puir beast would be killed wi' physic. Ye needna tell on her, Jacky--ye wadna like to harm a bonnie cow like yon, yoursel." "And we'll no' tell on you," added Bessie.