Belle Murdoch had now reached her sixteenth year. She was tall, well-formed, fair, and a picture of perfect health. No allusion to her going out to service had yet been made. But the family expenses becoming each year heavier, the proposal so much dreaded by Mrs. Murdoch at length came.

Wullie had been ailing for a month, and he felt somewhat despondent. So one evening when the children were in bed, and husband and wife were sitting by the cheerful fire, Jeannie busied with mending little Davie's clothes, Wullie broached the subject as gently as he could.

"Ye are aye warking, Jeannie," he said, "and I am no idle when I am weel, and still I hae muckle to do to gie my family a' the comforts that I would like to gie them. I misdoot the judgment we use in keeping Belle at hame. She is a strang healthy lass noo, and I dinna see hoo I am to keep my heid aboon water unless the lassies as they get age and strength gang to service as ithers do, or find a better way to earn honest pennies."

"Weel, Wullie, I wouldna mind the lass gaen to service but for the way it has turned oot wi' Jamie. He will, nae doot, hae the sculing o' a born gentleman, and so be fitted to win his bread like ither gentlemen; and it looks no quite right to hae ane o' the same family oot at service, and that ane a lass, forbye."

"I see, wifie, I see. And I hae thought o' the same thing. But right is right, and wrang is wrang; and rather than we s'ould gang beyond oor means and mak debts, we might better let her gang to a gude place."

"That is o'er true," said Jeannie, "and if things get muckle waur we'll hae to sacrifice oor wishes to oor necessities."

A few days after this conversation Farmer Lindsay came to honest Wullie's cottage. "Mistress Murdoch, I hae come to ask a favor," he began. "The gude-wife is taen ill, and we are pressed wi' the wark; will ye be sae kind as to let Belle come and stop wi' us a wee while till the wife is on her feet again?"

"Oh, ay, she can gang, and we are glad to oblige ye. Ye will find her no afraid o' wark; and she kens hoo to tak hold o' things as well as maist lassies o' her age."

Accordingly Belle made a few hasty preparations, and went immediately to Farmer Lindsay's. Mr. Lindsay conducted her to his wife's room. "Noo ye needna fash your heid aboot the wark," said he. "I hae brought ye a strang lass wi' willing hands, and a cheerfu' face that it will do your een gude to look at."

"Ay, lass, it does a body gude to see ye the morn, ye are sae fresh and rosy," said Mrs. Lindsay. "I ken naebody that I would like better than yoursel to come into the hoose and help till I am able to tak my place again. Betty is a gude strang lass, but she canna do the wark o' twa, and sae we will be muckle obliged to ye if ye will stay wi' us and help her."

Belle proved the truth of her mother's statement concerning her. After Mrs. Lindsay recovered she still kept Belle with her. "She minds me o' the sang-birds, she is sae blithe and cheerfu'," said Mrs. Lindsay to her husband.

"Ay, she is a winsome lass, and I would like weel to hae ye keep her. Ye can keep baith lassies if ye like. Ye are no strang yoursel, and there is wark eneuch for baith. But I dinna ken whether Wullie means to let her gang oot to service; I asked her to come only to do us a favor."

"Weel, if she will stop here she will be treated mair like a daughter than a servant."

"I wouldna wonder to see her a daughter some day, wifie. Archie thinks there is nae lass like Belle."

"He is welcome to think sae. I would liefer ken wha comes into the family. I dinna want a lass frae the toun, wha wouldna ken, perhaps, whether the dairy was clean or no, and that couldna mak butter nor cheese fit to gang to the market. Fine parritch and bannocks would then be made in this hoose; and wha kens whether the totties" (potatoes) "would come to the board cauld or het!"

"Ye are looking a lang way aheid, and coonting withoot your host," said Mr. Lindsay, laughing. "It would be weel to find oot first if they will let the lass stop wi' us."

Mrs. Murdoch had noticed the friendship between her daughter and Archie Lindsay, and she secretly hoped it would ripen into love. Now that Belle was so well liked by both the farmer and his wife, she thought circumstances were shaping towards the fulfilment of her desires, and, therefore, when asked whether Belle might remain at the farmhouse, she readily assented. So it was arranged that Belle should remain with Mrs. Lindsay.

Honest Wullie felt relieved. "When the burden is o'er heavy it is aye lightened," thought he; and he remarked to his wife, "Noo that we hae but twa to provide for, it may be that we s'all be able to lay by a wee bit for a weet day."

It was not long before Belle began to be accompanied by Archie when she came in the evening to see her parents. No opposition was manifested, and very little comment was made; their association was regarded as a thing of course. Donald McPherson, who always saw at least all that was to be seen in the neighborhood, and was not diffident in giving voice to his thoughts, ventured to rally the mother on her prospective good fortune.

"I think, Mistress Murdoch," said Donald, "that your daughter will be staying her lifetime at the farmhouse. Weel, Archie is a clever lad, and Belle is a clever lass; I doot if they could be better mated. Hoo differently it has turned oot wi' Nellie McAllister!"

"What is wrang wi' Nellie?"

"Hae ye no heard aboot it? Why, she has rin awa wi' that gude-for-naught Langley that has been hinging aboot there sae lang."

"Ye dinna tell me that!"

"Ay, but I do tell ye; and that is nae the whole o' it. The lass has stolen a' the gear she could pit her hands on. Mrs. McAllister is a'maist as daft as Jamie himsel."

"Weel, weel, weel! That is waur than I expected," exclaimed honest Wullie; "but ane never kens when trouble may come under his ain roof."

"It is a sair trouble, neebor, a sair trouble; and yet they couldna expect a blessing on their ill-gotten gain."

"That is vera true, vera true, Donald. I am mair and mair convinced that there is but ane way to do, and that is to do right. I am puir, and I expect to stay sae, but it is a peaceful pillow I put my heid on when night comes around."

"Weel, I dinna think Mrs. McAllister will ever ken sic a pillow under her heid. Punishment comes slowly sometimes; but it comes, for a' that. I maun say I am thankfu' I got oot o' the clutches o' the de'il as soon as I did; and yet he held me lang eneuch to gar me tak shame to mysel whenever I think o' it. Ay, I am angry as weel as ashamed when I think how I fuled awa my siller till Katy had but ane gown till her back. It is a sin and a shame for a man to mak sic a beast o' himsel!"

"That it is," said Wullie, pressing his lips tightly together, and nodding more than once in an affirmative manner. "I wish ilka stoup that is filled wi' grog would snap in twain before it reached the lips o' ony ane."

"Weel, if that s'ould be, there is mony a tongue would lap it frae the floor but they would hae it," said Donald.

"Hoo is that lad o' Daft Jamie's likely to turn oot?" asked Wullie.

"Bad eneuch. What but a miracle would save him? He is aye standin' in the bar-room. His mither brought him there when he couldna mair than toddle; and he has aye been sippin' and lickin' at the stoups folk set doun. Noo he does mair: he taks his dram like ony ither ne'er-do-weel, so I am tauld. I dinna gang there to see it, ye ken."

"Weel, by the look o' it, they will a' gang to ruin thegither."

"I had a'maist said, 'The de'il may care,' but I wunna. I wunna wish evil on ony ane; neither will I think sae lightly o' the ills which befa' ony o' the human family."

"That last is weel said. We maun not only wish nae ill to ony ane, but if we can, we maun help up the fallen and lead to firm groun' those that stand in slippery places."

Donald, who could not long be silent, turned to Annie and asked, "Hoo like ye the new sculemaister?"

"I like him vera weel," said little Annie, blushing to find herself addressed.

"That lad o' mine thinks he is o'er strict; but I think Donald doesna mind his books as he s'ould."

"Donald is o'er fond o' fun," said Annie, smiling, for she was thinking of his many pranks and grimaces behind the teacher's back.

"He is like his faither before him. I had aye mair nonsense than sense in my heid when I went to scule, and what wi' ane trick and anither my lessons cam oot slim. Ane auld maister got angry wi' me, and I will tell ye hoo it cam aboot. As I said, I was up to mony pranks, and he would aye wink at them when he could wi' ony decency; but I went too far: I tried a trick on the maister himsel; I put a bee in his bonnet. I was a'maist sorry as soon as I had done it; but a wheen o' the lads thought it was fine fun, so I didna shake it oot as I had a mind to do mair than ance. As may be supposed, the bee stung the maister on the tap o' his heid. My! but was he no ravin'! When the scule was called for the afternoon he set himsel to find oot wha had pit the bee in his bonnet. I felt my face graw red, but I took wonderfully to my books. I warrant I hadna minded them sae weel for mony a day. Weel, the maister eyed every lad in the sculeroom. After a bit he said,

"'Donald McPherson, ye arena wont to mind your book sae weel. Your conduct looks suspicious.'

"Noo I wasna a bold, hardened lad, sae I lookit mair and mair guilty.

"'Donald, ken ye hoo that bit beastie cam in my bonnet?' asked the maister.

"I didna answer him. Ane o' the lads spoke up: 'Maister, the bee could easily get in the bonnet withoot being pit there.'

"'Whist! Ye needna pit him up to lee aboot it. I ken by the look o' him that he has dune it, but he will fare better if I hae the truth frae his own mou'. Donald, I will ask ye ance mair, did ye pit that bee in my bonnet?'

"'I canna deny it, maister,' I stammered oot.

"'It is weel for you that ye didna; but ye s'all feel the tips o' the taws for a' that.'

"And did I no? My certie, but that taws was het! Weel, I didna play ony mair tricks on the maister, I can assure you."

"Nor s'ould you," said Wullie. "It is a' wrang. But mony laddies hae thoughtless heids."

"Ay hae they; but lassies hae na, hae they, Annie? I hear ye stand at the heid o' your class; hoo is that?"

"Whiles I am there, and whiles Maggie Lindsay is there."

"Weel, it is a pleasant thing to see bairns fond o' books. But I am staying o'er lang. I will be gaen noo. Gude-night to ye a'."

"Wifie, we hae muckle reason to be thankfu'," said Wullie, after Donald was gone. "Surely His banner over us is love." Thus did honest Wullie acknowledge the goodness of God. And though his was a life of unremitting toil and care, he daily found cause to say, "Praise the gude Lord!"

Both the children now attended school, and, as has been intimated, Annie made rapid progress. She was not as pretty as Belle, but she was even more interesting. She resembled her father somewhat. She had the same large, dark, lustrous eyes; she was lively, witty, and fond of company. The mother, who was reminded of the father through his child, often said to herself, "I am glad that bairn is a lass." Annie received many pretty presents from Belle. Indeed, she seldom went to see her at the farmhouse without bringing away a knot of ribbon, or some proof of sisterly affection, trifling though it was. Farmer Lindsay was always glad to have Annie come to his house. He was unlike honest Wullie, and he often joked with the child in order to draw out her powers of repartee. Mrs. Lindsay also enjoyed the fun. But thoughtful Belle would sometimes shake her head, as if to say, "Ye maunna, Annie." Sometimes Annie took Davie with her. He always returned with his pockets crammed with cream-cakes and apples. When they would hold no more, Mrs. Lindsay would say to the child, "Tell your mither no to mak your pockets sae sma'."