The little girl was silent. She was thinking of that strange occurrence in the morning of which she was not to speak; and in a vague kind of way she could not but associate that with Meenie’s absence all that day, and also with the unusual tone of her ’good-bye.’ But yet, if there were any trouble, it would speedily pass away. Ronald would put everything right. Nobody could withstand him—that was the first and last article of her creed. And so, when they got home, she proceeded cheerfully enough to stir up the peats, and to cook their joint supper in a manner really skilful for one of her years; and she laid the cloth; and put the candles on the table; and had the tea and everything ready. Then they sate down; and Ronald was in very good spirits, and talked to her, and tried to amuse her. But the little Maggie rather wistfully looked back to the brilliant evening before, when Meenie was with them; and perhaps wondered whether there would ever again be a supper-party as joyful and friendly and happy as they three had been when they were all by themselves in the big gaily-lit barn. *CHAPTER XII.* *’WHEN SHADOWS FALL.’* The deershed adjoining the kennels was a gloomy place, with its bare walls, its lack of light, and its ominous-looking crossbeams, ropes, and pulley for hanging up the slain deer; and the morning was dark and lowering, with a bitter wind howling along the glen, and sometimes bringing with it a sharp smurr of sleet from the northern hills. But these things did not seem to affect Ronald’s spirits much as he stood there, in his shirt-sleeves, and bare-headed, sorting out the hares that were lying on the floor, and determining to whom and to whom such and such a brace or couple of brace should be sent. Four of the plumpest he had already selected for Mrs. Douglas (in the vague hope that the useful present might make her a little more placable), and he was going on with his choosing and setting aside—sometimes lighting a pipe—sometimes singing carelessly— _’O we aft hae met at e’en, bonnie Peggie, O,_ _On the banks o’ Cart sae green, bonnie Peggie, O,_ _Where the waters smoothly rin,_ _Far aneath the roarin’ linn,_ _Far frae busy strife and din, bonnie Peggie, O’—_ when the little Maggie came stealing in. ’Ronald,’ she said, with an air of reproach, ’why are ye going about on such a morning without your jacket, and bare-headed, too?’ ’Toots, toots, lassie, it’s a fine morning,’ said he indifferently. ’It was Meenie said I was not to let you do such foolish things,’ the little lass ventured to say diffidently. Of course this put a new aspect on the case, but he would not admit as much directly. ’Oh, well,’ said he, ’if you bring me out my coat and bonnet I will put them on, for I’m going down to the Doctor’s with two or three of the hares.’ And then she hesitated. ’Ronald,’ said she, ’I will take them to Mrs. Douglas, if you like.’ ’You?’ said he.