For some time Miss Ailie had been anxious about her red-armed maid, who had never before given pain unless by excess of willingness, as when she offered her garter to tie Miss Ailie's parcels with. Of late, however, Gavinia had taken to blurting out disquieting questions, to the significance of which she withheld the key, such as-- "Is there ony place nowadays, ma'am, where there's tourniements? And could an able-bodied lassie walk to them? and what might be the charge to win in?" Or, "Would you no like to be so michty beautiful, ma'am, that as soon as the men saw your bonny face they just up wi' you in their arms and ran?" Or again, "What's the heaviest weight o' a woman a grand lusty man could carry in his arms as if she were an infant?" This method of conveyance seemed to have a peculiar fascination for Gavinia, and she got herself weighed at the flesher's. On another occasion she broke a glass candlestick, and all she said to the pieces was, "Wha carries me, wears me." This mystery was troubling the school-mistress sadly when Tommy arrived with the key to it. "I'm doubting Gavinia's reading ill books on the sly," he said. "Never!" exclaimed Miss Ailie, "she reads nothing but the _Mentor_." Tommy shook his head, like one who would fain hope so, but could not overlook facts. "I've been hearing," he said, "that she reads books as are full o' Strokes and Words We have no Concern with." Miss Ailie could not believe it, but she was advised to search the kitchen, and under Gavinia's mattress was found the dreadful work. "And you are only fifteen!" said Miss Ailie, eying her little maid sorrowfully. "The easier to carry," replied Gavinia, darkly. "And you named after a minister!" Miss Ailie continued, for her maid had been christened Gavinia because she was the first child baptized in his church after the Rev. Gavin Dishart came to Thrums. "Gavinia, I must tell him of this. I shall take this book to Mr. Dishart this very day." "The right man to take it to," replied the maid, sullenly, "for it's his ain." "Gavinia!" "Well, it was Mrs. Dishart that lended it to me." "I--I never saw it on the manse shelves." "I'm thinking," said the brazen Gavinia, "as there's hoddy corners in manses as well as in--blue-and-white rooms." This dark suggestion was as great a shock to the gentle school-mistress as if out of a clear sky had come suddenly the word-- _Stroke!_ She tottered with the book that had so demoralized the once meek Gavinia into the blue-and-white room, where Tommy was restlessly awaiting her, and when she had told him all, he said, with downcast eyes: "I was never sure o' Mrs. Dishart. When I hand her the _Mentor_ she looks as if she didna care a stroke for't--" "Tommy!" "I'm doubting," he said sadly, "that she's ower fond o' Words We have no Concern with."