“Oh, she says it is a wicked thing, and forbidden by the Church. People who go to wish there, sacrifice to the spirits of the well; and Father Francis told her that it was very wrong.” “Father Francis is a shaveling,” said Randal. “I heard Simon Grieve say so.” “What’s a shaveling, Randal?” “I don’t know: a man that does not fight, I think. I don’t care what a shaveling says: so I mean just to go and wish, and I won’t sacrifice anything. There can’t be any harm in _that!_” “But, oh Randal, you’ve got your green doublet on!” “Well! why not?” “Do you not know it angers the fair--I mean the good folk,--that anyone should wear green on the hill but themselves?” “I cannot help it,” said Randal. “If I go in and change my doublet, they will ask what I do that for. I ‘ll chance it, green or grey, and wish my wish for all that.” “And what are you going to wish?” “I ‘m going to wish to meet the Fairy Queen! Just think how beautiful she must be! dressed all in green, with gold bells on her bridle, and riding a white horse shod with gold! I think I see her galloping through the woods and out across the hill, over the heather.’ “But you will go away with her, and never see me any more,” said Jean. “No, I won’t; or if I do, I ‘ll come back, with such a horse, and a sword with a gold handle. I’m going to the Wishing Well. Come on!” Jean did not like to say “No,” and off they went. Randal and Jean started without taking anything with them to eat. They were afraid to go back to the house for food. Randal said they would be sure to find something somewhere. The Wishing Well was on the top of a hill between Yarrow and Tweed. So they took off their shoes, and waded the Tweed at the shallowest part, and then they walked up the green grassy bank on the other side, till they came to the burn of Peel. Here they passed the old square tower of Peel, and the shepherd dogs came out and barked at them. Randal threw a stone at them, and they ran away with their tails between their legs. [Illustration: Page 265] “Don’t you think we had better go into Peel, and get some bannocks to eat on the way, Randal?” said Jean. But Randal said he was not hungry; and, besides, the people at Peel would tell the Fairnilee people where they had gone. “We’ll _wish_ for things to eat when we get to the Wishing Well,” said Randal. “All sorts of good things--cold venison pasty, and everything you like.” So they began climbing the hill, and they followed the Peel burn. It ran in and out, winding this way and that, and when they did get to the top of the hill, Jean was very tired and very hungry. And she was very disappointed. For she expected to see some wonderful new country at her feet, and there was only a low strip of sunburnt grass and heather, and then another hill-top! So Jean sat down, and the hot sun blazed on her, and the flies buzzed about her and tormented her. “Come on, Jean,” said Randal; “it must be over the next hill!”