"Then he felt somefing on his back, then somefing further up his back, then a bite at his neck; and then he felt his head bitten off, and he died. Now you tell me one." "Which?" Phillis considered. "The one about the Kelpie and the Wee Bit Lassie." Robin obliged. At first he stumbled a little, and had to be prompted in hoarse whispers by Phillis (who apparently had heard the story several times before); but as the narrative progressed and the adventures of the wee bit lassie grew more enthralling and the Kelpie more terrifying, he became almost as immersed as his audience. When I peeped through the curtain they were both sitting on the hearth-rug pressed close together, Phillis gripping one of Robin's enormous hands in a pleasurable condition of terrified interest. The fair copy of the "Importation of Mad Dogs Bill," I regret to say, lay on the floor under the table. I retired to my arm-chair. "The Kelpie," Robin continued, "came closer and closer behind her. Already she could feel a hot breath on her neck." (So could Robin on his, for that matter.) "But she did not give in. She ran faster and faster until----" "You've forgotten to say she could hear its webbed feet going _pad pad_ over the slippery stanes," interpolated Phillis anxiously. "So I did. I'm sorry. She could hear its webbed feet going _pad pad_ over the slippery stanes. Presently though, she came to a wee bit housie on the moor. It was empty, but she slippit through the yard-gate and flew along the path and in at the door. The Kelpie came flying through the gate----" "No, no--it loupit ower the dyke!" screamed Phillis, who would countenance no tamperings with the original text. "Oh, yes. It loupit ower the dyke, but the wee lassie just slammed the door in its face, and turned the key. Then she felt round in the dark and keeked about, wondering what kind of place she was in. And at that very moment, through a bit window in the wall----" "She went ben first." "Oh, yes. She went ben; and at that very moment, through the bit window in the back-end of the house, there came a ray of light. The sun----" "The sun had risen," declaimed Phillis, triumphantly taking up the tale; "and with one wild sheriek of disappointed rage the Kelpie vanished away, and the wee lassie was _saved_!" There was a rapt pause after this exciting anecdote. Then Phillis remarked-- "Uncle Robin, let's write that story down, and then I can get people to read it to me." "Why not write it down for yourself?" "I can't write--much; and it ought to be writed in ink, and I--I am only allowed to use pencil," explained my daughter, not without a certain bitterness. "But I put the lead in my mouf," she added defiantly. At this moment the door of my apartment was hurled open, and Gerald projected himself into the room. It was the evening before his return to school, and there was a predatory look in his eye. He was accompanied by his speechless friend.