“Not if Margaret knew of it,” I said to myself, and wondered at Whamond’s forbearance.

“She had a skein o’ worsted stretched out on her hands,” Sanders continued, “and a young leddy was winding it.  I didna see her richt, but she wasna a Thrums leddy.”

“Effie McBean says she’s his intended, come to call him to account,” Nanny said; but I hardly listened, for I saw that I must hurry to Tammas Whamond’s.  Nanny followed me to the gate with her gown pulled over her head, and said excitedly: 

“Oh, dominie, I warrant it’s true.  It’ll be Babbie.  Sanders doesna suspect, because I’ve telled him nothing about her.  Oh, what’s to be done?  They were baith so good to me.”

I could only tell her to keep what she knew to herself.

“Has Rob Dow come back?” I called out after I had started.

“Whaur frae?” she replied; and then I remembered that all these things had happened while Nanny was at Tilliedrum.  In this life some of the seven ages are spread over two decades, and others pass as quickly as a stage play.  Though a fifth of a season’s rain had fallen in a night and a day, it had scarcely kept pace with Gavin.

I hurried to the town by the Roods.  That brae was as deserted as the country roads, except where children had escaped from their mothers to wade in it.  Here and there dams were keeping the water away from one door to send it with greater volume to another, and at points the ground had fallen in.  But this I noticed without interest.  I did not even realize that I was holding my head painfully to the side where it had been blown by the wind and glued by the rain.  I have never held my head straight since that journey.

Only a few looms were going, their pedals in water.  I was addressed from several doors and windows, once by Charles Yuill.

“Dinna pretend,” he said, “that you’ve walked in frae the school-house alane.  The rain chased me into this house yestreen, and here it has keeped me, though I bide no further awa than Tillyloss.”

“Charles,” I said in a low voice, “why is the Auld Licht bell ringing?”

“Hae you no heard about Mr. Dishart?” he asked.  “Ob, man! that’s Lang Tammas in the kirk by himsel’, tearing at the bell to bring the folk thegither to depose the minister.”

Instead of going to Whamond’s house in the school wynd I hastened down the Banker’s close to the kirk, and had almost to turn back, so choked was the close with floating refuse.  I could see the bell swaying, but the kirk was locked, and I battered on the door to no purpose.  Then, remembering that Henry Munn lived in Coutt’s trance, I set off for his house.  He saw me crossing the square, but would not open his door until I was close to it.

“When I open,” he cried, “squeeze through quick”; but though I did his bidding, a rush of water darted in before me.  Hendry reclosed the door by flinging himself against it.

“When I saw you crossing the square,” he said, “it was surprise enough to cure the hiccup.”