Part 21 (1/2)

The overjoyed Laird would have overwhelmed his little deliverer with words of thanks had not the boy held up his hand to stop him. ”Get on my back,” he said shortly, ”for thou are not safe till thou art out of this country.”

The Laird did as he was bid, and, marvellous as it seems, the boy was quite able to bear his weight. As soon as he was comfortably seated the pair set off, over sea and land, and never stopped till, in almost less time than it takes to tell it, the boy set him down, in the early dawn, on the daisy-spangled green in front of his Castle, just where he had spoken first to him so many years before.

Then he turned, and laid his little hand on the Laird's big one:

”Ae gude turn deserves anither, Tak' ye that for being sae kind to my auld mither,”

he said, and vanished.

And from that day to this he has never been seen again.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

POUSSIE BAUDRONS

”Poussie, Poussie Baudrons, Where hae ye been?”

”I've been at London, Seeing the Queen!”

”Poussie, Poussie Baudrons, What got ye there?”

”I got a guid fat mousikie, Rinning up a stair.”

”Poussie, Poussie Baudrons, What did ye do wi't?”

”I put it in my meal-poke To eat it to my bread.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: I got a guid fat mousikie Rinning up a stair]

THE MILK-WHITE DOO

There was once a man who got his living by working in the fields. He had one little son, called Curly-Locks, and one little daughter, called Golden-Tresses; but his wife was dead, and, as he had to be out all day, these children were often left alone. So, as he was afraid that some evil might befall them when there was no one to look after them, he, in an ill day, married again.

I say, ”in an ill day,” for his second wife was a most deceitful woman, who really hated children, although she pretended, before her marriage, to love them. And she was so unkind to them, and made the house so uncomfortable with her bad temper, that her poor husband often sighed to himself, and wished that he had let well alone, and remained a widower.

But it was no use crying over spilt milk; the deed was done, and he had just to try to make the best of it. So things went on for several years, until the children were beginning to run about the doors and play by themselves.

Then one day the Goodman chanced to catch a hare, and he brought it home and gave it to his wife to cook for the dinner.

Now his wife was a very good cook, and she made the hare into a pot of delicious soup; but she was also very greedy, and while the soup was boiling she tasted it, and tasted it, till at last she discovered that it was almost gone. Then she was in a fine state of mind, for she knew that her husband would soon be coming home for his dinner, and that she would have nothing to set before him.

So what do you think the wicked woman did? She went out to the door, where her little step-son, Curly-Locks, was playing in the sun, and told him to come in and get his face washed. And while she was was.h.i.+ng his face, she struck him on the head with a hammer and stunned him, and popped him into the pot to make soup for his father's dinner.

By and by the Goodman came in from his work, and the soup was dished up; and he, and his wife, and his little daughter, Golden-Tresses, sat down to sup it.

”Where's Curly-Locks?” asked the Goodman. ”It's a pity he is not here as long as the soup is hot.”

”How should I ken?” answered his wife crossly. ”I have other work to do than to run about after a mischievous laddie all the morning.”