The little place was in confusion. The shutters were down, but the shop had not been tidied, and Mrs. MacAlister herself, when she came forward to serve her customers, was pale and had red eyes.
'Is anything the matter, Mrs. MacAlister?' asked Marjorie, while the others looked at the untidy shop in surprise.
'Indeed, Miss Marjorie, I will just be having my shop broken into this night; and they will be opening the post-box and taking away a lot of the letters,' and the woman threw herself into a chair and began talking and lamenting in Gaelic, while the children crowded together open-eyed.
'No, Master Reggie—no, Miss Marjorie; do not be touching anything,' said Mrs. MacAlister hurriedly, as they approached the shattered letter-box; 'it hass all to remain as it iss until the chief constable and the laird hev seen it; and they will be bringing the Sheriff from Stornwell; it iss an unlucky day for a poor woman like me, whateffer.'
'It's a dreadful thing,' said Marjorie; 'I hope they'll catch the thief, Mrs. MacAlister.'
Mr. Stewart, accompanied by the stranger and the island constable, was approaching the door, so the young people trooped out into the street, feeling greatly excited.
'Who do you think has done it, Allan?' asked Tricksy in an awestruck voice.
Allan did not answer, and Reggie said, 'How can he tell, Tricksy?' somewhat curtly.
Tricksy subsided, and a cart laden with peats coming by, Allan stopped the driver and asked him to give them a 'lift.'
The man helped Tricksy into the cart, and the others scrambled in the best way they could, and settled themselves among the peats.