“An’ I can scarce believe it true,
So late thy life began,
The playful bairn I fondled then
Stands by me now, a man!”
Her voice, which at first was as clear as the tones of a silver bell, quavered at the close of the first stanza and then ceased altogether. But by this time old Mrs. Ranger had caught the spirit of the ballad, and though her voice was husky, she cleared her throat and added, in a low contralto, the impressive lines, paraphrased somewhat to suit the occasion,—
“Oh, fondly cherish her, dearie;
She is sae young and fair!
She hasna known a single cloud,
Nor felt a single care.
And if a cauld world’s storms should come,