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She was a grown woman now, but the same loving child as before. She counted the brothers her superiors, just as they counted the laird and his daughter their superiors. But whereas Alexa claimed the homage, Dawtie yielded where was no thought of claiming it. The brothers regarded her as their sister.
He had read strange things in certain old books, and half believed some of them: what if Dawtie was one of those evil powers that haunt a man in pleasant shape, learn the secrets of his heart, and gain influence over him that they may tempt him to yield his soul to the enemy! She was set on ruining him! Certainly she knew that cup was in his possession! He must temporize! He must seem to listen!
The old man received her kindly, called her his dawtie, and made her sit down by him on a three-legged creepie, talking to her as if she had been quite a child, while she, capable of high converse as she was, replied in corresponding terms. Her great-aunt was confined to her bed with rheumatism.
"When did you see the goblet first?" persisted George. "Goblet, sir? I thought you were speaking of the gold cup." By goblet Dawtie understood a small iron pot. "Goblet, or cup, or chalice whatever you like to call it I ask how you came to know about it." "I know very little about it." "It is plain you know more than you care to tell.
"And I love my master," repeated Dawtie, thus putting afresh the question what she was to do. "Why do you love him, Dawtie?" asked Andrew. "Because I'm set to love him. Besides, we're told to love our enemies then surely we're to love our friends. He has always been a friend to me. He never said a hard word to me, even when I was handling his books. He trusts me with them!
"I'm none so sure of that," said the Shepherd slowly, when he had recovered from the first shock of surprise. "The new Laird may be worse than the old. Be that as it may, I'm not one to rejoice at the death of any man. Death is a solemn thing, my dawtie, but the Lord's will be done, and I'm not pretending to mourn."
Then he prayed, giving thanks for the mercy that had surrounded them all the day, shielding them from the danger and death which lurked for them in every corner. What would he say when death did get him? Dawtie thought. Would he thank God then? And would he see, when she spoke to him, that God wanted to deliver him from a worse danger than any out-of-doors?
"Weel, but allooin' that, ye sudna gar fowk lauch, wi' a bonnie flooer, but ridickleous for the size o' 't, 'cep' ye gie 't room. A kirk's ower little for't." "Ye're richt there, my dawtie. And I haena been to the kirk ava'. I hae been to the hills." "And what got ye there?" "I got this upo' the road hame." "But what got ye there?" "Weel, I got the blue lift." "And what was that to ye?"
So he drew Annie close to him, as he sat in his easy-chair, laid his plump cheek against her thin white one, and said in the gentlest way: "And what do you want a song-book for, dawtie?" "To learn bonnie sangs oot o', sir. Dinna ye think they're the bonniest things in a' the warl', sangs, sir?" For Annie had by this time learned to love ballad-verse above everything but Alec and Dowie.
He came, he said, to ask when she had seen Dawtie. He would have gone himself to see her, but his father was ailing, and he had double work to do. Besides, she did not seem willing to see him! Alexa told him she had been with her the day before, and had found her a little pale, and, she feared, rather troubled in her mind.
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