"I think so," Duncan replied indignantly.
"Eh, well, Duncan," she said, consolingly, "mother's often threatened and never done it before, and Elsie's a wilful child, with a spirit and temper that must needs be broken. But what was the matter now?"
"It was about fetching the milk," Duncan replied. "Elsie don't like it, and she wouldn't be quick."
"Eh, well; but it's the place of the young to fetch and carry," said the old woman, in a much more cheerful tone than she had used before. "But Duncan, my laddie, have you picked up a wee bit of paper with writing on it, what grandmother has dropped?"
"No, granny, I haven't never picked up a piece," Duncan replied.
"Nor seen it lying about neither, dearie? Come now, think if you picked it up and threw it in the fire. I won't be angry if you tell the truth."
"I never saw it at all," said Duncan again.
"Ah, well! I thought perhaps that it was about that mother was angry with Elsie, but it wasn't, after all; you're sure of that, Duncan?"
"Oh no; it was about the milk," Duncan returned, readily.
"And Elsie's asleep now. Well, well, youth must be chastised sometimes," crooned the old woman, softly. "You needn't talk about the paper I've lost, Duncan. It's safe enough in the fire, no doubt; but if you see a scrap of paper lying anywhere, bring it to grandmother, and she'll give you a penny for sharp eyes."