The light stopped not far off, and bobbed about and round and round, sometimes low to the ground as if the invisible thing that held it was looking for something that could not be found. Lotty tried to cry 'Who is there?' and was very much surprised that she could not say the words; all the sound, indeed, that she made was a little pitiful 'Hoo—hoo,' like what one hears from a dog when he is dreaming.
Then the light went suddenly out, and now Lotty ran quickly on up the brae, and some distance from the top thereof she listened again, and now she distinctly heard Chops whistling the air 'Fra poco a me,' and presently she met him.
Chops listened wonderingly to her story of the strange light.
'An' it were nought else, Miss Lotty, but a dead-candle. An' more's seen't nor you on still nights like this. An' they do say that dead-candle will never be laid till the man as killed the keeper is found an' 'anged on 'igh on a gallows-tree. An' ain't ye glad I've come, Miss Lotty?'
'Oh, so glad, Chops!'
'Oh Miss Lotty, I wish they was more ghostes if they'd allers make ye glad to meet yours truly, Chops, his mark.'
'You're a funny boy; but let us get home now as soon as possible. Poor Mary will think I'm lost.'
'Take my 'and, Miss Lotty, won't ye? It's a honest one.'
'I know that, Chops; you've always been good to me, and I'm never going to forget you, Chops, never, never, never.'
'Miss Lotty, ye speaks queer-like to-night,' said Chops.