Sandy stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"You could, laddie. But 't would be a while till I return—maybe not till next spring. And a lamb with no mother is a care."
"Ach, Sandy," cried the boy, "let me do it for you. I could feed it with my wee sister's nursing bottle."
"Ach, ay, laddie! Your mother would like that fine!" laughed Sandy. "But," he continued soberly, "if you would keep the wee creature, I could give you something for your trouble."
"No, Sandy. I would keep it for you, and gladly."
Sandy was still dubious. He was worried for fear the boy's father would object to a charge of this kind. The lamb would need tender nursing and careful watching.
Sometimes small boys grow careless, although their intentions are of the best. Then the task falls to Father or Mother.
As Sandy was revolving these thoughts in his mind, he suddenly had a plan.
"Ian," he said, "do you remember the story I told you of the pipers at Dunblane?"