He had not long to wait. A corner of the book had gone into the master’s eye; he clapped his hand to it, and for a moment seemed lost in suffering. The next, he clenched for the boy a man’s fist, and knocked him down. Cosmo fell backward over the form, struck his head hard on the foot of the next desk, and lay where he fell. A shriek arose, and a girl about sixteen came rushing up. She was the grand-daughter of James Gracie, befriended of the laird. “Go to your seat, Agnes!” shouted the master, and turning from her, stood, with his handkerchief to one eye, looking down on the boy. So little did he know him, he suspected him of pretending to be more hurt than he was. “Touch me gien ye daur,” cried Agnes, as she stooped to remove his legs from the form. “Leave him alone,” shouted the master, and seizing her, pulled her away, and flung her from him that she almost fell. But by this time the pain in his eye had subsided a little, and he began to doubt whether indeed the boy was pretending as he had imagined. He began also to feel not a little uneasy as to the possible consequences of his hasty act--not half so uneasy, however, as he would have felt, had the laird been as well-to-do as his neighbour, Lord Lickmyloof--who would be rather pleased than otherwise, the master thought, at any grief that might befall either Cosmo or the lass Gracie. Therefore, although he would have been ready to sink had the door then opened and the laird entered, he did not much fear any consequences to be counted serious from the unexpected failure of his self-command. He dragged the boy up by the arm, and set him on his seat, before Agnes could return; but his face was as that of one dead, and he fell forward on the desk. With a second great cry, Agnes again sprang forward. She was a strong girl, accustomed to all kinds of work, out-door and in-door. She caught Cosmo round the waist from behind, pulled him from the seat, and drew him to the door, which because of the heat stood open. The master had had enough of it, and did not attempt to hinder her. There she took him in her arms, and literally ran with him along the street. CHAPTER VI. GRANNIE’S COTTAGE. But she had not to pass many houses before she came to that of her grandfather’s mother, an aged woman, I need not say, but in very tolerable health and strength nevertheless. She sat at her spinning wheel, with her door wide open. Suddenly, and, to her dulled sense, noiselessly, Aggie came staggering in with her burden. She dropped him on the old woman’s bed, and herself on the floor, her heart and lungs going wildly. “I’ the name o’ a’!” cried her great-grandmother, stopping her wheel, breaking her thread, and letting the end twist madly up amongst the revolving iron teeth, emerging from the mist of their own speed, in which a moment before they had looked ethereal as the vibration-film of an insect’s wings.