“Hush, dear,” said Aline, taking the small frail hand in her own and stroking it, “you will tire yourself out.” “Can you put your hand under my pillow, Aline? You will find there a little packet.” Aline did as she was asked. “Now undo it.” She opened the small parcel and found in it half a groat that had been broken in two, a child’s spinning top and a short lock of dark curly brown hair. “He was my playmate,” said Joan, “and he used to help me every day to carry the water from the spring up to the house, and he said that when he was a big man he would marry me. I know I am going to die soon and no one loves me but you, so I want to give you my secret.” “O Joan, darling, you must not talk like that,” and Aline stooped and kissed the sad little face on the pillow, while her tears, in spite of herself, would keep welling up and rolling down her cheeks. A faint little smile spread over Joan’s face as her thoughts wandered away back to the old times in Kirkoswald and talking half to herself and half to Aline she said: “His name was Wilfred Johnstone. Oh! Wilfred, Wilfred, if only I could kiss you good-bye! but I shall leave your top and the half groat and your dear hair with my beautiful little lady, and some day she may see you and give them back and say good-bye for me.” “O Aline,” she went on, trying to raise herself as she put her arms round her neck--“give him this kiss for me and say that if I had grown up I would have been his little wife as I promised”; then, pressing a kiss on Aline’s lips, she fell back exhausted on the bed. “I will do everything you ask,” said Aline, and sat by her for a long time, but the child did not speak again. At last the evening began to get dark and Aline knew she must be getting home. “Good-bye, sweet Joan,” she said and for the last time printed a kiss on the child’s forehead. “I wish you could have said good-bye,” and she turned to the door. As she turned Joan’s eyes half opened. “Good-bye,” she murmured, and Aline went sadly from the house. “They are going to take her away from me and I believe I love her even more than Audry, but it is all meant for the best. Oh, I hope and I hope that that horrid old witch was not telling the truth.” Aline lay awake for a long time that night thinking of Joan and old Moll and wondering how she would find Wilfred Johnstone; and when she slept she still dreamed of her little friend. The next morning they carried Joan away on a litter. The journey was to be made in three stages of a day each. Aline would have liked to see her off, but unfortunately Master Richard had specially arranged to take the children with him on a long expedition and make an early start, and he did not wish any interference with his plans. He had been so very kind in making the elaborate arrangements about Joan’s journey and future welfare that Aline did not like to say anything, though it cost her a pang.