A thought struck me.
“I heard Davie the other day asking her why she had two meal-tubs: perhaps that has something to do with it.”
“You must find out. Don’t ask Davie.”
For the first time it occurred to me that the Kelpie had upon that night of terror been out on business of her own, and had not been looking for me at all.
“Then she was down at old Betty’s cottage,” said Turkey, when I communicated the suspicion, “and Wandering Willie was there too, and Andrew was right about the pipes. Willie hasn’t been once to the house ever since he took Davie, but she has gone to meet him at Betty’s. Depend on it, Ranald, he’s her brother, or nephew, or something, as I used to say. I do believe she gives him the meal to take home to her family somewhere. Did you ever hear anything about her friends?”
“I never heard her speak of any.”
“Then I don’t believe they’re respectable. I don’t, Ranald. But it will be a great trouble to the minister to have to turn her away. I wonder if we couldn’t contrive to make her go of herself. I wish we could scare her out of the country. It’s not nice either for a woman like that to have to do with such innocents as Allister and Davie.”
“She’s very fond of Davie.”
“So she is. That’s the only good thing I know of her. But hold your tongue, Ranald, till we find out more.”
Acting on the hint Davie had given me, I soon discovered the second meal-tub. It was small, and carefully stowed away. It was now nearly full, and every day I watched in the hope that when she emptied it, I should be able to find out what she did with the meal. But Turkey’s suggestion about frightening her away kept working in my brain.