She rose with a haste marvellous for her years, and approaching, looked down on the prostrate form of the girl. “It can never be my ain Aggie,” she faltered, “to rush intil my quaiet hoose that gait, fling a man upo’ my bed, an’ fa’ her len’th upo’ my flure!” But Agnes was not yet able to reply. She could only sign with her hand to the bed, which she did with such energy that her great-grandmother--_Grannie_, she called her, as did the whole of the village--turned at once thitherward. She could not see well, and the box-bed was dark, so she did not at first recognize Cosmo, but the moment she suspected who it was, she too uttered a cry--the cry of old age, feeble and wailful. “The michty be ower ’s! what’s come to my bairn?” she said. “The maister knockit him doon,” gasped Agnes. “Eh, lassie! rin for the doctor.” “No,” came feebly from the bed. “I dinna want ony notice ta’en o’ the business.” “Are ye sair hurtit, my bairn?” asked the old woman. “My heid’s some sair an’ throughither-like; but I’ll jist lie still a wee, and syne I’ll be able to gang hame. I’m some sick. I winna gang back to the school the day.” “Na, my bonnie man, that ye sanna!” cried Grannie, in a tone mingled of pity and indignation. A moment more, and Agnes rose from the earth, for earth it was, quite fresh; and the two did all they could to make him comfortable. Aggie would have gone at once to let his father know; she was perfectly able, she said, and in truth seemed nothing the worse for her fierce exertion. But Cosmo said, “Bide a wee, Aggie, an’ we’ll gang hame thegither. I’ll be better in twa or three minutes.” But he did not get better so fast as he expected, and the only condition on which Grannie would consent not to send for the doctor, was, that Agnes should go and tell his father. “But eh, Aggie!” said Cosmo, “dinna lat him think there’s onything to be fleyt aboot. It’s naething but a gey knap o’ the heid; an’ I’m sure the maister didna inten’ duin me ony sarious hurt.--But my father’s sure to gie him fair play!--he gies a’ body fair play.” Agnes set out, and Cosmo fell asleep. He slept a long time, and woke better. She hurried to Glenwarlock, and in the yard found the laird. “Weel, lassie!” he said, “what brings ye here this time o’ day? What for are ye no at the school? Ye’ll hae little eneuch o’ ’t by an’ by, whan the hairst’s come.” “It’s the yoong laird!” said Aggie, and stopped. “What’s come till ’im?” asked the laird, in the sharpened tone of anxiety. “It’s no muckle, he says himsel’. But his heid’s some sair yet.” “What maks his heid sair? He was weel eneuch whan he gaed this mornin’.” “The maister knockit ’im doon.”