“Because she wants her own mamma to think she is dead.”

“What makes her want that?”

“I am not sure, but I think it is because there is me.  I think it was naughty of me to be born.  Can you help being born?”

Tommy would have liked to tell her about Reddy, but forbore, because he still believed that he had acted criminally in that affair, and so for the time being the inquisition ended.  But though he had already discovered all that Grizel knew about her mother and nearly all that curious Thrums ever ferreted out, he returned to the subject at the next meeting in the Den.

“Where does the Painted Lady get her money?”

“Oh,” said Grizel, “that is easy.  She just goes into that house called the bank, and asks for some, and they give her as much as she likes.”

“Ay, I’ve heard that, but—­”

The remainder of the question was never uttered.  Instead,

“Hod ahint a tree!” cried Tommy, hastily, and he got behind one himself; but he was too late; Elspeth was upon them; she had caught them together at last.

Tommy showed great cunning.  “Pretend you have eggs in your hand,” he whispered to Grizel, and then, in a loud voice, he said:  “Think shame of yoursel’, lassie, for harrying birds’ nests.  It’s a good thing I saw you, and brought you here to force you to put them back.  Is that you, Elspeth?  I catched this limmer wi’ eggs in her hands (and the poor birds sic bonny singers, too!), and so I was forcing her to—­”

But it would not do.  Grizel was ablaze with indignation.  “You are a horrid story-teller,” she said, “and if I had known you were ashamed of being seen with me, I should never have spoken to you.  Take him,” she cried, giving Tommy a push toward Elspeth, “I don’t want the mean little story-teller.”

“He’s not mean!” retorted Elspeth.

“Nor yet little!” roared Tommy.

“Yes, he is,” insisted Grizel, “and I was not harrying nests.  He came with me here because he wanted to.”

“Just for the once,” he said, hastily.

“This is the sixth time,” said Grizel, and then she marched out of the Den.  Tommy and Elspeth followed slowly, and not a word did either say until they were in front of Aaron’s house.  Then by the light in the window Tommy saw that Elspeth was crying softly, and he felt miserable.

“I was just teaching her to fight,” he said humbly.

“You looked like it!” she replied, with the scorn that comes occasionally to the sweetest lady.

He tried to comfort her in various tender ways, but none of them sufficed this time, “You’ll marry her as soon as you’re a man,” she insisted, and she would not let this tragic picture go.  It was a case for his biggest efforts, and he opened his mouth to threaten instant self-destruction unless she became happy at once.  But he had threatened this too frequently of late, even shown himself drawing the knife across his throat.