The sack made no bad seat, for it was half-full of turnip-seed; and
upon it Annie sat, and drearily surveyed the circumstances.
Auntie was standing in the middle of the shop. Bruce was holding the
counter open, and inviting her to enter.
"Ye'll come in and tak a cup o' tay, efter yer journey, Marget?" said
he.
"Na, I thank ye, Robert Bruce. Jeames and I maun jist turn and gae hame
again. There's a hantle to look efter yet, and we maunna neglec' oor
wark. The hoose-gear's a' to be roupit the morn."
Then turning to Annie, she said:
"Noo, Annie, lass, ye'll be a guid bairn, and do as ye're tell't. An'
min' and no pyke the things i' the chop."
A smile of peculiar import glimmered over Bruce's face at the sound of
this injunction. Annie made no reply, but stared at Mr Bruce, and sat
staring.
"Good-bye to ye, Annie!" said her aunt, and roused her a little from
her stupor.
She then gave her a kiss--the first, as far as the child knew, that she
had ever given her--and went out. Bruce followed her out, and Dowie
came in. He took her up in his arms, and said:
"Good-bye to ye, my bonnie bairn. Be a guid lass, and ye'll be ta'en
care o'. Dinna forget that.
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