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"What is our life? it is even a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." Rab all this time had been full awake and motionless; he came forward beside us: Ailie's hand, which James had held, was hanging down; it was soaked with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, looked at her, and returned to his place under the table.
The few boys he had already begun to know were at Cathro's or Ballingall's, and as they called Miss Ailie's a lassie school he had no desire to attend it, but where he was there also must Elspeth be.
Although they were thus reduced to a small allowance of food a smaller quantity than was sufficient to sustain life for any lengthened period no one in the slightest degree grudged Jacko his small portion. All the men entertained a friendly feeling to the little monkey, partly because it was Ailie's pet, and partly because it afforded them great amusement at times by its odd antics.
"Could ye tak' a dog?" asked Tammy. "Ye could that, mannie. It's no' a picnic wi'oot a sonsie doggie to rin on the brae wi' ye." "Oh!" Ailie's blue eyes slowly widened in her pallid little face. "But ye couldna hae a picnic i' the snawy weather." "Ay, ye could. It's the bonniest of a' when ye're no' expectin' it. I aye keep a picnic hidden i' the ingleneuk aboon."
McLean replied, quite honestly, "I am not sure that I did not always like you best," but that hurt her, and he had to unsay the words. "I was a thoughtless fool ten years ago," he said, bitterly, and Miss Ailie's answer came strangely from such timid lips.
It is even as a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." Rab all this time had been full awake and motionless; he came forward beside us; Ailie's hand, which James had held, was hanging down; it was soaked with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, looked at her, and returned to his place under the table. James and I sat, I don't know how long, but for some time.
Ailie's thin, swift legs were left behind when Bobby dashed to the kirkyard. Tammy followed at a surprising pace on his rude crutches, and Mr. Traill brought up the rear.
On its blue cover had been pasted a slip of white paper, and on the paper was written, in blue ink, "Alison Cray," with a date nearly nine years old. The contents were in Miss Ailie's prim handwriting; jottings for her own use begun about the time when the sisters, trembling at their audacity, had opened school, and consulted and added to fitfully ever since.
On that mid-April morning, when the rising sun gilded the Castle turrets and flashed back from the many beautiful windows of Heriot's Hospital, Tammy bundled his books under the table-tomb of Mistress Jean Grant, went over to the rear of the Guildhall at the top of the Row, and threw a handful of gravel up to Ailie's window. Because of a grandmither, Ailie, too, dwelt on a low level.
"If you had been in England all this time, you would see how easy the step is into literary work; but you must not betray this for the 'Traveller's' sake or Ailie's." "Your writing is not very womanish," said the colonel, as she gave him his task. "Or is this yours? It is not like that of those verses on Malvern hills that you copied out for me, the only thing you ever gave me."
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