“The right man to take it to,” replied the maid, sullenly, “for it’s his ain.”

“Gavinia!”

“Well, it was Mrs. Dishart that lended it to me.”

“I—­I never saw it on the manse shelves.”

“I’m thinking,” said the brazen Gavinia, “as there’s hoddy corners in manses as well as in—­blue-and-white rooms.”

This dark suggestion was as great a shock to the gentle school-mistress as if out of a clear sky had come suddenly the word—­

Stroke!

She tottered with the book that had so demoralized the once meek Gavinia into the blue-and-white room, where Tommy was restlessly awaiting her, and when she had told him all, he said, with downcast eyes: 

“I was never sure o’ Mrs. Dishart.  When I hand her the Mentor she looks as if she didna care a stroke for’t—­”

“Tommy!”

“I’m doubting,” he said sadly, “that she’s ower fond o’ Words We have no Concern with.”

Miss Ailie would not listen to such talk, but she approved of the suggestion that “Waverley” should be returned not to the minister, but to his wife, and she accepted gratefully Tommy’s kindly offer to act as bearer.  Only happening to open the book in the middle, she—­

“I’m waiting,” said Tommy, after ten minutes.

She did not hear him.

“I’m waiting,” he said again, but she was now in the next chapter.

“Maybe you would like to read it yoursel’!” he cried, and then she came to, and, with a shudder handed him the book.  But after he had gone she returned to the kitchen to reprove Gavinia at greater length, and in the midst of the reproof she said faintly:  “You did not happen to look at the end, did you?”

“That I did,” replied Gavinia.

“And did she—­did he—­”

“No,” said Gavinia, sorrowfully.

Miss Ailie sighed.  “That’s what I think too,” said Gavinia.

“Why didn’t they?” asked the school-mistress.

“Because he was just a sumph,” answered Gavinia, scornfully.  “If he had been like Fergus, or like the chield in ‘Ivanhoe,’ he wouldna have ta’en a ‘no.’  He would just have whipped her up in his arms and away wi’ her.  That’s the kind for me, ma’am.”

“There is a fascination about them,” murmured Miss Ailie.

“A what?”

But again Miss Ailie came to.  “For shame, Gavinia, for shame!” she said, severely; “these are disgraceful sentiments.”

In the meantime Tommy had hurried with the book, not to the manse, but to a certain garret, and as he read, his imagination went on fire.  Blinder’s stories had made him half a Jacobite, and now “Waverley” revealed to him that he was born neither for the ministry nor the herding, but to restore to his country its rightful king.  The first to whom he confided this was Corp, who immediately exclaimed:  “Michty me!  But what will the police say?”

“I ken a wy,” answered Tommy, sternly.