One night the little Maggie stole away through the dark to the Doctor’s cottage. There was a light in the window of Meenie’s room; she could hear the sound of the piano; no doubt Meenie was practising and alone; and on such occasions a visit from Maggie was but little interruption. And so the smaller girl went boldly towards the house and gained admission, and was proceeding upstairs without any ceremony, when the sudden cessation of the music caused her to stop. And then she heard a very simple and pathetic air begin—just touched here and there with a few chords: and was Meenie, tired with the hard work of the practising, allowing herself this little bit of quiet relaxation? She was singing too—though so gently that Maggie could scarcely make out the words. But she knew the song—had not Meenie sung it many times before to her?—and who but Meenie could put such tenderness and pathos into the simple air? She had almost to imagine the words—so gentle was the voice that went with those lightly-touched chords— _’The sun rase sae rosy, the gray hills adorning,_ _Light sprang the laverock, and mounted on hie,_ _When true to the tryst o’ blythe May’s dewy morning,_ _Jeanie cam’ linking out owre the green lea._ _To mark her impatience I crap ’mong the brackens,_ _Aft, aft to the kent gate she turned her black e’e;_ _Then lying down dowilie, sighed, by the willow tree,_ _"I am asleep, do not waken me."’[#]_ [#] ’I am asleep, do not waken me’ is the English equivalent of the Gaelic name of the air, which is a very old one, and equally pathetic in its Irish and Highland versions. Then there was silence. The little Maggie waited; for this song was a great favourite with Ronald, who himself sometimes attempted it; and she would be able to tell him when she got home that she had heard Meenie sing it—and he always listened with interest to anything, even the smallest particulars, she could tell him about Meenie and about what she had done or said. But where were the other verses? She waited and listened; the silence was unbroken. And so she tapped lightly at the door and entered. And then something strange happened. For when Maggie shut the door behind her and went forward, Meenie did not at once turn her head to see who this was, but had hastily whipped out her handkerchief and passed it over her eyes. And when she did turn, it was with a kind of look of bravery—as if to dare any one to say that she had been crying—though there were traces of tears on her cheeks. ’Is it you, Maggie? I am glad to see you,’ she managed to say. The younger girl was rather frightened and sorely concerned as well. ’But what is it, Meenie dear?’ she said, going and taking her hand. ’Are you in trouble?’