'They are for Mrs. Macdonnell,' said Tricksy, looking up with her soft, dark eyes; 'I think she would be glad if we brought her some.'
Allan said nothing, and Reggie's dark face looked approving.
A walk of a mile or two brought the young folk to the heather-roofed cottage where Mrs. Macdonnell lived. A dog rushed out and barked, but wagged his tail when he saw who the visitors were.
'Neil's dog,' said Allan; 'look how he speaks to Laddie. Poor Jock; poor old fellow; come here.'
'Where's your master, Jock; where's Neil?' said Reggie in a low voice, as the dog came up to be petted.
They knocked at the outer door, but there was no answer. After a moment's hesitation, they pushed it open and knocked at the door of the kitchen.
'Come in,' said a faint voice; and they entered.
A woman was sitting by the peat fire, with her neglected spinning-wheel beside her. She was strikingly handsome, in spite of her mournful expression and dejected attitude. Her black hair, as yet only slightly touched with grey waved on either side of a broad low forehead, and she had a straight nose like Neil's and a beautifully shaped face; but the eyes which she raised at the children's entrance were full of sorrow.
The boys hung about the doorway, and Marjorie felt a lump in her throat; but Tricksy advanced courageously.
'How do you do, Mrs. Macdonnell?' she said, with a little gurgle in her voice, that expressed more than she had the power to say in words. 'Mother said we might come and see you; and we thought you might like some flowers.'