"Well, mother," said Jessie, "dinna take on so ill about it. We're not more hard pressed than our neighbours. Look at Janet Ross with all her bairns, and her rent owing for three terms; and auld Betty Matthew, at the Croft, who hasna a penny forbye what she gets at the kelp burning. We have our two bonnie cows, and a score of good sheep, and all our hens." "We have all that," replied my mother. "But I'm thinking the sheep must be sold at Martinmas, or we'll not have much of a living for winter." "Then, if you sell the sheep, Halcro will need to go to the fishing," said Jessie. "He'll need to get work somewhere. The lad canna aye be idle; and there's nothing but the fishing for him, I doubt, if he doesna gang to the piloting with Carver Kinlay." "No, not that," I said. "I'd rather burn kelp than have anything to do with him." So it was agreed that our sheep were to be sold, and that I must find work of some sort whereby to help the family. Now, in the afternoon, when they found I did not come back to tea, they surmised that I had already gone to look for employment at Kirkwall, and they waited impatiently for my return. After tea my mother went to the byre to attend to the cows, and Jessie stood for a long time at the door looking out for me. Seeing no sign of me, nor of the sheep, she walked in the direction of the North Hill, there to get a wider prospect. She looked towards every likely quarter, but the last place she thought of looking at was Kinlay's clover field. There were some sheep grazing there, but Jessie never imagined that they were the sheep of Lyndardy; for what should take them into that forbidden pasture? And yet their number was remarkable. Yes, there were our twenty sheep, with our big cheviot in their midst, coolly enjoying themselves in the fine clover grass that Carver was jealously reserving for the benefit of his own ewes. Without waiting to explain to herself the meaning of what she saw, or the reason of my being away from the sheep, Jessie hastened towards the clover field. As she approached, however, something occurred that made her run with all speed. Suddenly there was a commotion among the sheep and a noisy barking, for in their midst was Tom Kinlay with his great retriever dog. He chased the sheep into a corner of the enclosure, and proceeded to belabour them with a heavy stick. The cheviot, however, bolder than Tom had supposed, turned at bay, made a heavy rush at him, and butting him aside bounded over the low wall, followed by all the flock. Tom was soon on his feet, and with his dog he gave chase. One of the small Shetland ewes was overtaken, and disabled by a knock on the head. The other animals, led by the cheviot, were running madly towards the cliffs when Jessie, arriving on the scene, attempted to intercept them. But the dog was fleet of foot, and, encouraged by Tom's cries of "After them, good dog, after them!" continued the pursuit with high enjoyment.