“Did Meg say that!” cried Saunders in high delight, “Ye see what it is to be a sensible woman.  An’ whaur micht she be noo?”

Now Jess knew that Meg was churning the butter, with Jock Forrest to help her, in the milk-house, but it did not suit her to say so.  Jess always told the truth when it suited as well as anything else; if not, then it was a pity.

“Meg’s ben the hoose wi’ the auld fowk the noo,” she said, “but she’ll soon be oot.  Juist bide a wee an’ bind the kye for me.”

Down the brae face from the green meadowlets that fringed the moor came the long procession of cows.  Swinging a little from side to side, they came—­black Galloways, and the red and white breed of Ayrshire in single file—­the wavering piebald line following the intricacies of the path.  Each full-fed, heavy-uddered mother of the herd came marching full matronly with stately tread, blowing her flower-perfumed breath from dewy nostrils.  The older and staider animals—­Marly, and Dumple, and Flecky—­came stolidly homeward, their heads swinging low, absorbed in meditative digestion, and soberly retasting the sweetly succulent grass of the hollows, and the crisper and tastier acidity of the sorrel-mixed grass of the knolls.  Behind them came Spotty and Speckly, young and frisky matrons of but a year’s standing, who yet knew no better than to run with futile head at Roger, and so encourage that short-haired and short-tempered collie to snap at their heels.  Here also, skirmishing on flank and rear, was Winsome’s pet sheep, “Zachary Macaulay”—­so called because he was a living memorial to the emancipation of the blacks.  Zachary had been named by John Dusticoat, who was the politician of Cairn Edward, and “took in” a paper.  He was an animal of much independence of mind.  He utterly refused to company with the sheep of his kind and degree, and would only occasionally condescend to accompany the cows to their hill pasture.  Often he could not be induced to quit poking his head into every pot and dish about the farm-yard.  On these occasions he would wander uninvited with a little pleading, broken-backed bleat through every room in the house, looking for his mistress to let him suck her thumb or to feed him on oatcake or potato parings.

To-night he came down in the rear of the procession.  Now and then he paused to take a random crop at the herbage, not so much from any desire for wayside refreshment, as to irritate Roger into attacking him.  But Roger knew better.  There was a certain imperiousness about Zachary such as became an emancipated black.  Zachary rejoiced when Speckly or any of the younger or livelier kine approached to push him away from a succulent patch of herbage.  Then he would tuck his belligerent head between his legs, and drive fore-and-aft in among the legs of the larger animals, often bringing them down full broadside with the whole of their extensive systems ignominiously shaken up.

By the time that Saunders had the cows safe into the byre, Jess had the letter opened, read, and resealed.  She had resolved, for reasons of her own, on this occasion to give the letter to Winsome.  Jess ran into the house, and finding Winsome reading in the parlour, gave her the letter in haste.