And so she got him away, going with him a few steps up the field. She turned in time to meet the troop of children who, in a state of subdued mirthfulness suitable to the day and their proximity to their grandfather, were drawing near. She had a gentle word of caution or chiding to each, and then she said softly to Katie:
“You’ll go up the brae with your grandfather and help him if there is anything wrong with old Kelso. And cheer him up, my lassie. Tell him about the meeting, and the Sunday-school; say anything you think of to hearten him. You ken well how to do it.”
“But, grannie,” said Katie, startled, “there is nothing wrong, is there?”
“Wrong,” repeated her grandmother. “Ken you anything wrong, lassie, that you go white like that?”
The brave old woman grew white herself as she asked, but she stood between Katie and the rest, that none might see.
“I ken nothing, grannie, only grandfather didna bide to the meeting to-day, Ben told me.”
“Didna bide to the meeting? Where went he, then? He has only just come home.”
“It was because of Jacob Holt,” Ben said.
“But Katie, my woman, you had no call surely to speak about the like of that to Ben Holt?”
“I didna, grannie. I just heard him and came away. And, grannie, I think maybe grandfather was at Pine-tree Hollow. It would be for a while’s peace, you ken, as the bairns were at home.”