“It was naething ill,” said Jacky.
“Oh, he’ll be a lad to some o’ ye, nae doubt—set ye up! But I can tell ye, he had better no come here to say an ill word o’ young Mr. Ross.”
“Miss Anne’s Mr. Lewis’s sister,” said Jacky, decisively.—”Johnnie dauredna say a word ill o’ him—only that he was—”
Bessie laughed—she had no honorable scruples, but maliciously refrained from helping Jacky out.
“Only about Miss Alice and him.”
“Weel ye’re a queer lassie,” said Mrs. Aytoun’s maid. “Could ye no have tell’t me that at first?”
Bessie laughed again.
“And, Jacky, is the wee fairy lady aye at the Mill yet?”
“Wha’s that?” cried the curious Tibbie.
“Oh, it’s a wee bairn that the fairies sent to Strathoran. She was a’ dressed in green silk, and had wings like Miss Alice’s white veil, and was riding on a pony as white as snaw; and the miller’s wife took her in, and her wings took lowe at the fire, and she would have been a’ burned, if Miss Ross hadna saved her—and Johnnie Halflin saw her wi’ his ain e’en—and they say she’s some kin to Jacky.”