"We call them the Good Neighbours in Scotland, you know, because the fairies don't like to be talked about with disrespect. But to go on with my story. Nigel Grant was on a wide moor all alone, although the lances of his men-at-arms glittered on the verge of the horizon. Suddenly--from the viewless air, apparently, since there was no rock or tree or shelter of any kind--there appeared a small woman dressed in green, with a golden crown. At the sight of her the chief's horse stopped all at once, as though stricken into stone. The fairy queen--for it was she, the same, I suppose, who appeared to Thomas the Rhymer." "Ah! _she_ was mounted on a horse!" said Sybil, half to herself. "Indeed? Well, this queen was on foot, and in her arms she carried a child. Stopping before Nigel, she placed the child on his saddle-bow, and told him to take it home for a year and a day. 'If it returns to us safe and sound,' she continued, 'great good fortune will befall the Grants. But if anything wrong is done to it, then will sorrow come.' So speaking she vanished, and the horse, suddenly regaining motion, galloped home to the castle, bearing the amazed chief with his child in his arms." "His child, my lord?" asked the vicar, smiling. "It had to be his child for a year and a day. He found that during his absence his wife had given birth to a fine boy, but that a day or so after it was born the cradle was found empty. Lady Grant was in a great state of terror, as you may imagine. When the chief told his story she declared that her child had been carried off by the Good Neighbours. It was her wish to kill the changeling. But this the chief, mindful of the prophecy, would not permit. It was supposed that the fairy child required to be nursed by a mortal woman, and this was why the chief's boy had been carried away." "I never heard that version of the old story before," said Tempest. "No? It is usually said that the fairies want the child for themselves. But in this story what I have told you was believed. Lady Grant, hoping to get back her own child in a year and a day, nursed the changeling. It was a peevish, cross, whimpering creature, and marvellously ugly. But when she fed it with her milk it grew fat and strong, and became good-tempered. "On the night when the year and a day were up, there was heard the sound of galloping horses round the castle. A wind swept into the rooms and down the corridors. Everyone in the castle fell into a magic sleep. But in the morning the true child was found smiling in his cradle and the fairy changeling was gone. In the cradle also was the cup I am seeking, and a scroll saying that while it was kept in the family no ill would befall, but that if lost the line would be in danger of extinction." "And did the prophecy ever come true?" asked Sybil.