“She maun be weaned,” replied the warper, with a show of temper; he was convinced that the sooner Elspeth learned to do without Tommy the better it would be for herself in the end, but in his way of regarding the boy there was also a touch of jealousy, pathetic rather than forbidding.  To him he left the task of breaking the news to Elspeth; and Tommy, terrified lest she should swoon under it, was almost offended when she remained calm.  But, alas, the reason was that she thought she was going with him.

“Will we have to walk all the way to the Dubb of Prosen?” she asked, quite brightly, and at that Tommy twisted about in misery.  “You are no—­you canna—­” he began, and then dodged the telling.  “We—­we may get a lift in a cart,” he said weakly.

“And I’ll sit aside you in the fields, and make chains o’ the gowans, will I no?  Speak, Tommy!”

“Ay—­ay, will you,” he groaned.

“And we’ll have a wee, wee room to oursels, and—­”

He broke down, “Oh, Elspeth,” he cried, “it was ill-done of me no to stick to my books, and get a bursary, and it was waur o’ me to bother about that word.  I’m a scoundrel, I am, I’m a black, I’m a—­”

But she put her hand on his mouth, saying, “I’m fonder o’ you than ever, Tommy, and I’ll like the Dubb o’ Prosen fine, and what does it matter where we are when we’re thegither?” which was poor comfort for him, but still he could not tell her the truth, and so in the end Aaron had to tell her.  It struck her down, and the doctor had to be called in during the night to stop her hysterics.  When at last she fell asleep Tommy’s arm was beneath her, and by and by it was in agony, but he set his teeth and kept it there rather than risk waking her.

When Tommy was out of the way, Aaron did his clumsy best to soothe her, sometimes half shamefacedly pressing her cheek to his, and she did not repel him, but there was no response.  “Dinna take on in that way, dawtie,” he would say, “I’ll be good to you.”

“But you’re no Tommy,” Elspeth answered.

“I’m not, I’m but a stunted tree, blasted in my youth, but for a’ that I would like to have somebody to care for me, and there’s none to do’t, Elspeth, if you winna.  I’ll gang walks wi’ you, I’ll take you to the fishing, I’ll come to the garret at night to hap you up, I’ll—­I’ll teach you the games I used to play mysel’.  I’m no sure but what you might make something o’ me yet, bairn, if you tried hard.”

“But you’re no Tommy,” Elspeth wailed again, and when he advised her to put Tommy out of her mind for a little and speak of other things, she only answered innocently, “What else is there to speak about?”

Mr. McLean had sent Tommy a pound, and so was done with him, but Ailie still thought him a dear, though no longer a wonder, and Elspeth took a strange confession to her, how one night she was so angry with God that she had gone to bed without saying her prayers.  She had just meant to keep Him in suspense for a little, and then say them, but she fell asleep.  And that was not the worst, for when she woke in the morning, and saw that she was still living, she was glad she had not said them.  But next night she said them twice.