"Whom are you staring so hard at, my little maid?" said he.
The child fished out a strip of folded paper from somewhere about her diminutive person, and held it up to him.
"Ye will be the Mr. Dane who's staying at The Larches?"
Dane nodded, and the girl glanced up and down the lane suspiciously.
"Then Sis telt me to give ye this when there was naebody to see."
"And who is your sister, and what's it all about?" asked Dane; and the little thing smiled roguishly.
"Just Mary Johnstone. Maybe it would tell ye gin ye lookit inside it, sir."
She vanished the next moment, with a patter of bare feet, leaving Dane to stare blankly at the folded paper.
"Now, who is Mary Johnstone, and what can she want with me?" he wondered, as he prepared to follow the child's advice and read the missive. When this had been done, however, he was not greatly enlightened.
"I'm taking a great liberty," it ran. "I am in great trouble, and you are the one person who can help me. If you would not have two little children go hungry all winter, you will meet me by the planting at Hallows Brig in the gloaming to-morrow. I saw you at The Larches, and thought I could trust you."