"It's that weeld bairn o' the laird's, an' near anow was she to her death, to be sure! Shame on Angus for lettin' the bairn tak' a boat this day!"
"What child do you mean? Boys will be boys."
"But she's a girl!"
Rowena looked up surprised.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"'Tis Mysie Macdonald, an' I'll be changin' her things surely! It's just a maircy o' the A'mighty's that the wee bairn is not drooned."
In a few minutes Rowena heard the sound of the men's voices and a clear treble between them. Then suddenly her window, which was half shut, swung open, and a child with sunny brown curls falling over her shoulders, dashed in.
"Granny Mactavish, I've come to tea with you!"
She stopped short at the sight of Rowena on her couch.
She was in a kilt which was wringing wet and dripped on the ground as she moved. But she held herself squarely and proudly, then doffed her bonnet like a boy.