To his astonishment he found one girl only in attendance. This was Mary Semple, or "Wee Mary", as she was generally called; a fatherless and motherless orphan, without a known relation on earth, and who was boarded by the Session, as being the only poor-law guardians in the parish, with a widow in the immediate neighbourhood, to whom two shillings weekly were paid for her. Adam and his wife had taken a great fancy to Mary. She was nervous and timid from constitutional temperament, which was aggravated by her poor upbringing as an infant, and by the unkind usage, to say the least of it, she often received from Mrs. Craigie, with whom she lived. Adam had more than once expostulated with the Kirk Session for boarding Mary with this woman; but as Mrs. Craigie was patronised by Mr. Smellie, and as no direct charge against her could be "substantiated on sufficient evidence", such as Mr. Smellie demanded, Mary was not removed. But she often crept into the Sergeant’s house to warm herself and get a "piece" with Charlie; for she was so meek, so kind, so playful, as to have been always welcomed as a fit companion for the boy. This was, perhaps, the secret of the attachment of Adam and his wife to her after their boy’s death. But where were the other children of the class? Mrs. Mercer could not conjecture. Could Mary? She hung her head, looked at her fingers, and "couldna say", but yet seemed to have something to say, until at last she confessed, saying: "Mrs. Craigie flyted on me for wantin’ to come to the Sabbath-nicht skule, and said she wad gie me a thrashing if I left the house when she gaed to the evenin’ sermon; but I ran awa’ to the class, and I’m feared to gang hame." "What for are ye feared, Mary?" asked the Sergeant. "Jist because----" replied Mary, with her head down. "Because o’ what, bairn?" persistently asked the Sergeant. "Because o’ the bird," said Mary, driven to a corner. And being further urged, she went on to tell in her own way how "a’ the weans had been ordered by their folk no’ to come to the class, as----" But Mary hung down her head again, and was silent. "As what, Mary?" "As----" And she wept as if her heart would break. "As what, Mary?" "As the Sergeant was an awfu’ bad man," she added, in her sobs. "Don’t cry, Mary--be calm," said Adam. "But I’ve com’d, as I kent it was a lee," the child said, looking up to Adam’s face. Mary had faith! But if the Sergeant had any doubt as to Mary’s story, it was soon dispelled by the sudden appearance of Mrs. Craigie, demanding the child in a very decided tone of voice, and without making any apology for the sudden intrusion, or offering any explanation. "Did I no’ tell ye to bide at hame, ye guid-for-nothing lassie? Come awa’ wi’ me this minute!" she said, advancing to take hold of Mary. Mary sprang to the Sergeant and hid herself behind his back. "Not so hasty, Mrs. Craigie," said the Sergeant, protecting her; "not so hasty, if you please. What’s wrong?"