"It's been an awfu' nicht o' wind and rain," she again observed, glancing at his dripping clothes, and conveying a hint that explanations were desirable. "I canna understand at a' what way you hae bidden oot in a' that rain, Lod's sake? It's enough to gie you your daeth o' cauld. You are wet to the skin, an' there's no a dry steek on you? Hae you been oot in it a'?" and her curiosity she felt was too crudely put to be answered. Robert knew that she was bent on having an explanation, and that if he gave her any encouragement at all she'd soon have the whole story out of him. "Yes," he said curtly, "but I'm no' gaun to talk ony the nicht. I'm gaun to my bed for an oor before risin' time." "You'll never gaun till your work the day," she said in warm concern. "You'll never be able. You'd better tak' a rest, my laddie. A day will no' mak' muckle difference noo. We're no sae ill aff, an' I wadna like to hae onything gaun wrang. Gang away till your bed, an' dinna bother aboot your work. A guid rest'll maybe keep you frae getting the cauld." "I'm a' richt, mither," he replied as airily as he could. "Dinna worry; an' be sure an' wauken me for my work. I'm na gaun to bide in when there is naething wrang. You gang awa' to your bed," and she knowing that was the last word, did not speak further, and as he withdrew to his room, she went back to bed wondering more and more at the mystery of it all. But he did not sleep. Torn by worry and in spite of his earlier resolution to think no more about it he lay and thought and wondered about Mysie, and the man he saw, joining her at the end of the grove; and when Nellie opened the door to call him that it was "rising time," Robert answered to the first cry, and his mother was more amazed than ever; for he generally took a good many cries, being a heavy sleeper. But being sensible she kept her wonder to herself, knowing if it were anything which she had a right to know he'd tell her in his own good time. CHAPTER XVI A STIR IN LOWWOOD "My! Div you ken what has happened?" asked Mrs. Johnstone, bursting in upon Mrs. Sinclair one day about two weeks later. "My, it's awfu'!" she continued in breathless excitement, her head wagging and nodding with every word, as if to emphasize it, her eyes almost jumping out with excitement, and her whole appearance showing that she had got hold of a piece of information which was of the first importance. "My, it's awfu'," she repeated again lifting her hands up to a level with her breast, and then letting them fall again, "Mysie Maitland has ran away frae her place, an' naebidy kens where she has gane to. An' Mrs. Rundell, mind you, has been that guid to her too, givin' her her caps an' aprons, an' whiles buyin' her a bit dress length forby, an' she gi'ed her boots and slippers, an' a whole lot o' ither things to tak' hame for the bairns--things that were owre wee for the weans at Rundell Hoose but were quite guid to wear. My, it's awfu'! Isn't it?"