So Mysie chatted on, and Rowena lay and listened. Then she read her some of her legends and folk-lore which she was collecting for her book. Once started on that subject, Mysie's tongue went faster than ever. The day was a complete success. But when Mysie was on her way to bed, she said: "I wish—I wish you were my governess! Don't you think you could be, when you get up from your back and walk again? I am sure you know quite as much as Miss Falconer does, and a good deal more. Don't be angry, like Dad, if I tell you quite privately, that I hate and detest and abhor her! I went down to the tom na hurisch and besought the fairies to come and take her one night. There's a little rowan tree outside her window, and I'm afraid that keeps her safe. Angus won't hear of it being cut down, as he says it will bring us bad luck—I want bad luck to be brought to Miss Falconer!" "Oh, hush! Now I really am shocked, and must protest!" said Rowena. "Never wish ill-luck to come to anyone, even to your worst foe. It isn't generous or right. And this is holiday time: we are not going to think about lessons or about Miss Falconer." Mysie shook her curls a little defiantly. "Dad doesn't know what I know, or else he wouldn't like her so much." "Good night, little Flora; pleasant dreams!" And Mysie said no more, but went obediently to bed. CHAPTER VIII THE LAIRD'S AWAKENING "Yet to be loved makes not to love again; Not at my years, however it hold in youth." Tennyson. MYSIE stayed with Rowena till the afternoon of the following day, and very unwillingly departed. She had hardly gone before another visitor was announced, and this was Mr. Crawford whom Rowena had met on the loch with Angus. He was full of her accident, and told her they had hardly got to the shore themselves before the storm burst upon them. "Upon my honour, I'd half a mind to row back and look for your remains," he said. "We felt convinced you would be upset, and then we saw a small boat go to your rescue. Donald was beside himself till he heard you were none the worse for your immersion. It was risky being upon the loch a day like that." "Yes, that pleasure is over," said Rowena regretfully. "I shall no longer be able to enjoy my punt, for it is now a forbidden pastime. If General Macdonald had not happened to be at hand, it would have been all up with me." "Oh, he's the laird of Abertarlie, isn't he? I was dining at the Grants' yesterday evening, and he was under discussion. A Miss Falconer amused us very much. It seems she is teaching a small girl of his—more as a pastime than anything else. She's one of these modern women—you should have heard her take him off! He has those old-fashioned mid-Victorian ideas of women, and wants his small daughter patterned after their style. Miss Falconer is the wrong sort of person to do that. She's an awfully good sort. Have you met her?"