“Ye’ll need to speir at himsel’ to find that out. He says naething to me.”
“We will hope better things for you,” said Allison.
She took the child in her arms again. A fair, fragile little creature she was, with soft rings of golden hair, and great, wistful blue eyes. She was not in the least shy or frightened, but nestled in Allison’s arms in perfect content.
“Come and see Charlie,” said she.
Charlie was a little lad whose right place was in another room; but being restless and troublesome, he had been brought here for a change.
“What ails you, my laddie?” asked Allison, meeting his sharp, bright eyes.
“Just a sair leg. It’s better now. Oh! ay, it hurts whiles yet, but no’ so bad. Have you ony books?”
“No, I brought no book with me except my Bible.”
“Weel, a Bible would be better than nae book at a’.”
“Eh! laddie! Is that the way ye speak of the good Book?” said a voice behind him. “And there’s Bibles here—plenty o’ them.”