“You’ve let him sleep too long already,” she returned, ungraciously. “He’ll do all he can, waking or sleeping, to make himself troublesome. He’s a ne’er-do-well, Ranald. Little good’ll ever come of him. It’s a mercy his mother is under the mould, for he would have broken her heart.” I had come to myself quite by this time, but I was not in the least more inclined to acknowledge it to Mrs. Mitchell. “You’re wrong there, Mrs. Mitchell,” said Elsie Duff; and my reader must remember it required a good deal of courage to stand up against a woman so much older than herself, and occupying the important position of housekeeper to the minister. “Ranald is a good boy. I’m sure he is.” “How dare you say so, when he served your poor old grandmother such a wicked trick? It’s little the children care for their parents nowadays. Don’t speak to me.” “No, don’t, Elsie,” said another voice, accompanied by a creaking of the door and a heavy step. “Don’t speak to her, Elsie, or you’ll have the worst of it. Leave her to me.--If Ranald did what you say, Mrs. Mitchell, and I don’t deny it, he was at least very sorry for it afterwards, and begged grannie’s pardon; and that’s a sort of thing _you_ never did in your life.” “I never had any occasion, Turkey; so you hold your tongue.” “Now don’t you call me _Turkey_. I won’t stand it. I was christened as well as you.” “And what are _you_ to speak to me like that? Go home to your cows. I dare say they’re standing supperless in their stalls while you’re gadding about. I’ll call you _Turkey_ as long as I please.” “Very well, Kelpie--that’s the name you’re known by, though perhaps no one has been polite enough to use it to your face, for you’re a great woman, no doubt--I give you warning that I know you. When you’re found out, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance beforehand.” “You impudent beggar!” cried Mrs. Mitchell, in a rage. “And you’re all one pack,” she added, looking round on the two others. “Get up, Ranald, and come home with me directly. What are you lying shamming there for?” As she spoke, she approached the bed; but Turkey was too quick for her, and got in front of it. As he was now a great strong lad, she dared not lay hands upon him, so she turned in a rage and stalked out of the room, saying, “Mr. Bannerman shall hear of this.” “Then it’ll be both sides of it, Mrs. Mitchell,” I cried from the bed; but she vanished, vouchsafing me no reply. Once more Turkey got me on his back and carried me home. I told my father the whole occurrence. He examined the cut and plastered it up for me, saying he would go and thank Turkey’s mother at once. I confess I thought more of Elsie Duff and her wonderful singing, which had put me to sleep, and given me the strange lovely dream from which the rough hands and harsh voice of the Kelpie had waked me too soon.