added another grateful word, and hobbled away. I pondered in a feeble fashion for a moment, came to the conclusion that the Kelpie had been rude to her, forgot her, and fell a-dreaming again. Growing at length tired of doing nothing, I roused myself, and set out to seek Turkey. I have lingered almost foolishly over this day. But when I recall my childhood, this day always comes back as a type of the best of it. I remember I visited Kirsty, to find out where Turkey was. Kirsty welcomed me as usual, for she was always loving and kind to us; and although I did not visit her so often now, she knew it was because I was more with my father, and had lessons to learn in which she could not assist me. Having nothing else to talk about, I told her of Eppie, and her altered looks when she came out of the house. Kirsty compressed her lips, nodded her head, looked serious, and made me no reply. Thinking this was strange, I resolved to tell Turkey, which otherwise I might not have done. I did not pursue the matter with Kirsty, for I knew her well enough to know that her manner indicated a mood out of which nothing could be drawn. Having learned where he was, I set out to find him--close by the scene of our adventure with Wandering Willie. I soon came in sight of the cattle feeding, but did not see Turkey. When I came near the mound, I caught a glimpse of the head of old Mrs. Gregson’s cow quietly feeding off the top of the wall from the other side, like an outcast Gentile; while my father’s cows, like the favoured and greedy Jews, were busy in the short clover inside. Grannie’s cow managed to live notwithstanding, and I dare say gave as good milk, though not perhaps quite so much of it, as ill-tempered Hawkie. Mrs. Gregson’s granddaughter, however, who did not eat grass, was inside the wall, seated on a stone which Turkey had no doubt dragged there for her. Trust both her and Turkey, the cow should not have a mouthful without leave of my father. Elsie was as usual busy with her knitting. And now I caught sight of Turkey, running from a neighbouring cottage with a spade over his shoulder. Elsie had been minding the cows for him. “What’s ado, Turkey?” I cried, running to meet him. “Such a wild bees’ nest!” answered Turkey. “I’m so glad you’re come! I was just thinking whether I wouldn’t run and fetch you. Elsie and I have been watching them going out and in for the last half-hour.--Such lots of bees! There’s a store of honey _there_.” “But isn’t it too soon to take it, Turkey? There’ll be a great deal more in a few weeks.--Not that I know anything about bees,” I added deferentially.