CHAPTER V. UNWELCOME VISITORS.
But we were not to escape further molestation. Troops were now sent through Ayrshire and the adjoining counties to make diligent search for such as they should please to consider rebels; and no house could hope to be exempt from their visitations.
On an evening bordering on winter we sat around our wide, warm hearth; we had already supped, and that in silence, for all knew, except my nephew, that search would soon be made in our neighborhood. We did not expect to be molested that night, but still the news had made me fearful, and I had barred the door. Watch, the wee house-dog, was sleeping on the hearth. The wind was making sad music without, while now and then a gust drove the smoke from the chimney into the room. It was an evening to accord with my feelings; for I was brooding over the desolation of our spiritual state and the dangers which threatened us, particularly Steenie; and a tear once fell on wee Jamie's head, which rested on my lap as he sat on a stool at my feet.
"Will you never have done wi' greetin', Aunt Effie?" asked he. "You are far stouter of heart when trouble is on us than when we are clear of it."
Just then David McDougal knocked and was admitted.
"I am come," said he, addressing Steenie, "to tell you that ye hae nae time to lose. Take to your heels, man!"
"I have no inclination to run," replied Steenie resolutely. "I would rather fight than run any day."
"Hoot, man, what would you do, wi' a score o' thae sons o' Belial lightin' doon in your midst! Awa wi' ye, and haud back a' the fight that is in ye till ye hae a fair chance in the field."
Just then the wee dog pricked up his ears. We looked at one another. David nodded, as if to say, "I told you so." A moment later we distinctly heard the tramp of horses. Mother waved her hand, silently bidding Steenie leave us. He wrapped his plaid about him and hurriedly embraced us.
"Be cautious, my dear brother, and hide yourself well," said I.