And Mary Bell, who, though a byre lass and daughter of toil, was born with the gentle heart of courtesy within her, refrained from asking why this wandering girl should be so greatly afraid of her own mother.
"Are you hungry?" she said, instead.
And little Boy Hugh awoke, rolled out of the hay, and shook himself like a young puppy. He stretched his arms wide, clasping and unclasping his fingers.
"I'm that hungry!" he said, as if he had heard Mary Bell's words in a dream.
"That's answer enough!" said the byre lass. "Certes, ye are a bonny laddie; come here to me."
And Mary Bell, who was born to love children and to bear them, snatched him up and kissed him warmly and roughly. But Hugh wriggled out of her arms, and as soon as he found himself on the ground he wiped his mouth deliberately and ungratefully with the back of his hand.
"Hae ye ony pieces and milk for wee boys?" he said.
The byre lass laughed.
"Ye like pieces and milk better than kisses," said she. "Hoo does that come?"
"Pieces and milk are better for ye!" said Boy Hugh, stating an undeniable truth.