'Allan,' said Mrs. Stewart, coming downstairs, 'your father has to go to Stornwell and will not be back until to-morrow, so there will be no cricket match this afternoon. I have a note from Mrs. MacGregor, asking you all to spend the day at Corranmore instead.'
'All right, Mother,' replied Allan; 'when are we to be there?'
'Mrs. MacGregor asks you to come early,' said Mrs. Stewart, consulting the letter; 'I had better send you in the dog-cart, as it's rather far to walk. Duncan is driving your father to the steamer, but he won't be long.'
'Don't bother about the dog-cart, Mother,' said Allan; 'it would be much jollier to walk; and we'd like to look in at Mrs. Macdonnell's cottage on the way and ask what's the matter with Neil. We haven't seen him for a day or two.'
'I wouldn't go there to-day, I think,' interposed Mrs. Stewart hurriedly. 'I don't think Neil will be at home. I'm afraid the walk would be too much for Tricksy,' she went on quickly, for the young people were looking surprised.
'Not if we start now, I think, Mother, and give Tricksy a rest now and again. What do you say, Tricksy?'
'Of course I can walk,' said Tricksy. 'I shan't be a bit tired, Mother.'
Mrs. Stewart looked at her little daughter with a smile.
'I am afraid of your overdoing it, Tricksy; she said. 'You are always trying to do as much as the others, who are so much older than yourself. Well, do as you like; I leave you in Allan's charge, and he will see that you are not made to walk too fast.'
'All right, Mother,' said Reggie; 'but won't you come a bit of the way with us?'
'Not this morning, dear. I will come with you some other time.'
'All right, Mother,' said Reggie; 'but it's a long time since you've gone anywhere with us. Cut away upstairs, Tricksy, and get your hat; it's time we started if we are to take rests on the way.'
'Don't you think Mother is very quiet?' observed Tricksy, as the three young people, accompanied by Laddie, were crossing the moor. 'I wonder whether she's sorry about something?'
'I did not notice anything,' said Allan.
Tricksy had almost said, 'No, boys never do, but checked herself in time.
The road between Ardnavoir and Corranmore led across the northern part of the island, through fields and moorland. All the turnings of the way brought into view fascinating glimpses of the sea, running inland between brown rocks. Fishing-boats with white and russet sails lay upon water turned to a sheet of silver by the sunlight, and grey and white gulls floated about and screamed.
The breeze was blowing shoreward, tempering the warmth of the sun and bringing brine and the odour of seaweed to mingle with the perfume of bell-heather from the moors.
Laddie stepped lightly beside his young friends, waving his tail in the air, and now and again pausing to investigate a rabbit-burrow or an interesting tuft of heather or cotton-grass.
'Well, Tricksy, getting tired yet?' said Allan to his little sister after they had walked between three and four miles.
'Not a bit,' replied Tricksy, trudging along determinedly, but with a little roll in her gait which betrayed that shewas.
'I think we'll rest awhile,' said Allan, and the three young folk sat down upon a patch of fragrant, springy heather, while Laddie, after looking at them for a minute, surprised at such an early halt, curled himself up beside them.
'I wish Father would get the yacht out soon,' said Allan, watching the sea and the fishing-boats.
'Yes,' said Reggie; 'he is very late this year.'
'He won't be long now,' said Allan. 'We are going to have visitors soon. Father has written to ask Graham major and Graham minor and their Pater to come and stay with us as they have such long holidays this year, owing to the measles.'
'Who are they?' inquired Reggie.
'Fellows from my school. Did you never hear me speak of them?'
'Ididn't,' said Tricksy. 'Are they nice boys?'
'Decent enough.'
'Big or little?'
'One's a small fellow; only been at school one term. The other's bigger; not more than eleven, though; more of an age for Reggie than for me.'
Reggie looked indignant, but said nothing. There was nothing that annoyed him so much as to be reminded that he was not yet a very big boy.
'Well,' said Allan, 'perhaps we had better be going, if you have rested enough, Tricksy. Hulloa, there's Euan Macdonnell, the coastguard, Neil's cousin; we'll stop and ask him if he can come out fishing with us some day soon.'
'Good day, Euan,' said the young people, pausing to speak, but the coastguard only saluted and passed on as though he were in a hurry.
Reggie looked at Allan in surprise.
'Been sent on a message, I suppose,' said Allan, 'and hasn't time to talk. The whole island seems to be upset by this affair at the post-office. I wish they'd hurry up and catch the fellow and be done with it. What's the matter with Laddie now?'
The collie, who had been sniffing about, following up a scent, had suddenly given a bark and sprang over a dyke, and was now yelping and baying excitedly as he jumped about on the other side.
'Hamish and Marjorie, I bet,' said Allan; and sure enough, two heads appeared above the dyke, a good-natured one and a mischievous one, the latter crowned by a scarlet cap on the top of a mass of fair curly hair.
'We thought we'd give you a surprise,' they said, 'but Laddie spoilt it for us. Good dog, Laddie, lie down,' for Laddie's manifestations of delight were taking the form of a loud baying which drowned all attempts at conversation.
'Trust, Laddie!' said Tricksy in her little soft voice; but Laddie took no notice.
'Laddie, trust!' said Reggie severely; and Laddie subsided at once, surprised that his attentions should be so little appreciated.
Tricksy uttered a reproachful sigh, caused by her dog's inattention to her commands.
'When does your mother expect us?' inquired Allan.
'Any time before dinner,' said Hamish. 'That's half-past one, and it's only eleven now. We've got any amount of time. What do you say to coming and looking at the gipsy encampment in the Corrie Wood? They're breaking up camp and leaving the island to-morrow, so we may not have another chance of seeing them.'
'All right,' said the others, and they trooped off to the tiny wood nestling in a hollow through which a burn trickled, and from whence a trail of smoke came blowing across the fresh green foliage of the trees.
All was bustle and stir in the gipsy encampment. Two carts were standing at the entrance to the hollow, and upon these the gipsies were piling their household goods—iron pots and kettles, bundles of rags, some gaudy crockery, and a variety of miscellaneous articles whose use it would be hard to determine.
At the sight of the young people the gipsies smiled a welcome, and the men took off their hats. Some small black-eyed children toddled forward, and stood staring, with their fingers in their mouths.
'Trust, Laddie!' said Allan; for two mongrel curs had rushed out and barked, whereupon Laddie had stiffened his back and was growling defiance.
Laddie was obliged to content himself with glaring at the other dogs and making a few remarks to express his contempt for gipsy dogs, and his view of their impertinence in presuming to look at his young ladies and gentlemen.
'Tell your fortune, pretty lady,' said a woman to Marjorie, with a smile which displayed her white teeth; but Marjorie shook her head.
'You are leaving Inchkerra?' said Allan to one of the men.
'Yes, sir. We start for Ireland to-morrow, in a sailing boat.'
'You haven't stayed very long,' observed Marjorie.
'Three months, lady. A long time for the gipsies.'
'Will you ever come back again?' inquired Marjorie.
The man shook his head.
'Can't say, lady. Maybe yes, maybe no. We never can tell. Thanks, master; good luck to you,' he said, touching his straggling forelock as Allan slipped a few coins into his hand.
'Good-bye, masters; good-bye, pretty ladies,' cried the gipsies in farewell.
Some distance from the hollow, a tall, loosely-made youth rose unexpectedly from where he had been basking in the sun, by the side of a dyke which screened him from the cold wind.
In the weak, handsome face and roving eyes the young people recognised Gibbie, the half-witted gipsy lad. An expression of disappointment crossed his face as he looked over the group and seemed to miss some one.
'Neil no with you,' he murmured. 'Want to see Neil. Was not at home.'
'Can we give him any message from you?' inquired Allan.
'Tell Neil, Gibbie go away. Long way; want to see Neil to say good-bye.'
'Very well,' said Allan. 'When we see him, we'll tell him.'
A crafty smile flitted over the lad's face, and he lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper.
'Neil will be pleased soon,' he said. 'Good Neil, good Neil. Neil will be very rich, richer than the Gorjos; has a piece of paper worth hundreds of pounds. Tell him to look for it. Gibbie go long way off.'
'Poor fellow,' observed Allan to Hamish, as the gipsy returned to his lazy basking on the heather; 'he is quite crazy; can't speak connectedly for two minutes at a time.'
'There is one good point in Gibbie's character,' said Hamish; 'he knows that Neil saved his life, and he is grateful. I think the island won't be sorry to see the last of him, though. He hasn't lived with his tribe for weeks. He had a den of his own in the banks of the burn that flows past our house; a queer place, far up in the hills.'
'Look,' said Reggie, 'that must be the gipsies' boat over there, off the south side of the island; and a little boat is going out to it with some of their things.'
'And there are the carts going down,' said Allan; 'it won't be long before the camp is broken up.'
'Pity we couldn't go gipsying for a little while,' observed Marjorie; 'just for the summer. It would be such fun wandering about from place to place. But look at the tide coming up in Cateran Bay; the waves are dashing on the shore and making the most beautiful foam. Would there be time for us to go down to the beach for a little while?'
'Plenty,' said Hamish; 'Mother doesn't expect us before one o'clock.'
'Come along, then,' said Marjorie; 'let's run;' and they all raced down to the shore, Laddie with them, the dog jumping with all four paws off the ground, and barking in anticipation of sport.
Breeze and tide together were flinging up little breakers which curled on the shore and then retreated, only to be sent up again by the next roller. A fascinating game was to run down to the very edge of a retreating wave, with one's toes almost within the line of foam; to wait until it gathered itself up again, and then fly to avoid being overtaken by the water which came hissing and bubbling over the pebbles.
Laddie, after watching the fun for a minute or two, suddenly rushed off with a bark, and returned dragging a huge flat stone which he deposited at Allan's feet; then he stood eagerly waiting, making a variety of signs to show Allan that he expected him to do something with it.
'Fetch, Laddie!' said Allan, throwing the stone as far as he could.
Laddie uttered a joyful yelp and sprang after it, returning with it in his mouth to ask Allan to throw it again.
'Laddie, fetch!' cried Allan, throwing it into the sea this time, and Laddie plunged into the water and came back dripping.
He laid down the stone and shook himself, to the great inconvenience of Marjorie; then he jumped about, baying for Allan to throw the stone once more.
The shouts and laughter and Laddie's barking were making a tumult which vied with the noise of wind and waves, when Hamish touched Allan's arm and pointed to the sky.
'Oh, I say,' said Allan, 'we really ought to go; it's going to pour like anything, and the girls will get wet.'
'I'm wet enough already, I think, especially about the feet,' murmured Tricksy; while Marjorie's lips tightened. She did not like the boys to show that they thought her less hardy than themselves.
Some large drops on the stones warned them to hasten; and they reached the doctor's house just as the storm burst.
Mrs. MacGregor, a pretty, young-looking lady, ran down into the hall to meet them.
'My dear Tricksy,' she cried, as she took the little girl's wet, cold hand, 'you are soaking! Your feet are drenched!'
'It's all right, Mrs. MacGregor,' piped Tricksy; 'we've been having a fine game. Hamish, you've let Laddie in, and his feet are making wet marks all over the floor!'
'Never mind Laddie,' said Mrs. MacGregor; 'take her upstairs and give her dry shoes and stockings, Marjorie, and then come to dinner, all of you.'
'You know, Marjorie,' observed Tricksy, as the elder girl somewhat anxiously assisted her to pull off her wet stockings; 'you know you are always telling me that we must be plucky and do all the things they want us to do when we play with boys, or else they think we're a bore.'
'That's all very well, Tricksy,' replied Marjorie, 'but what shall we do if you get ill? Your mother would stop your playing with us altogether if that happened.'
'Iget ill with playing out of doors and having fun,' returned Tricksy scornfully; 'I'm not such a duffer, Marjorie.'
Just before dinner Dr. MacGregor came in, 'such a dear of a man,' as Tricksy had once described him, with bright blue eyes and curly hair like Marjorie, and a kind expression like Hamish.
'How do you do, Reggie?' he said. 'How do you do, Allan? Do you like school as much as ever? My dear,' turning to his wife, 'I shall have to start immediately after lunch, and here is a note asking you to——'
The remainder of the sentence was lost, but the boys could see that both Dr. and Mrs. MacGregor were looking very grave.
'I am sorry that Mrs. MacGregor and I must leave you,' said the doctor while the meal was in progress, 'but I daresay you will manage to amuse yourselves without getting into mischief; eh, Marjorie?' smiling at his daughter, whose eyes flashed a saucy answer. 'You can have the boat down if the rain keeps off.'
But the rain showed no disposition to keep off, despite the anxious glances which were directed towards the window. When the clouds gathered once more in threatening masses, and the rain came lashing the panes, Dr. and Mrs. MacGregor took their departure in a closed carriage, warning Hamish that the boat was not to be used unless the sea went down.
'Bother!' said Tricksy, looking at the waves, which were tumbling over each other and whitening with foam; 'what are we to do while it rains?'
'Sit round the nursery fire, of course, and talk,' said Marjorie.
An immense pile of peats was built up on the hearth of the cosy, untidy room which had been the MacGregors' nursery; and the young folk sat round the 'ingle-neuk' and discussed matters dear to the heart of gamesome youth.
Suddenly Marjorie looked up and said, 'Hurrah! the rain's stopped. What shall we do?'
'Too stormy to get the boat out,' said Hamish, rising and going to the window; 'it's still very rough, and there will be another squall soon.'
'Iknow,' said Marjorie; 'let's play hide-and-seek. No, not a rubbishy game in the house,' she said, meeting Allan's look of disapproval; 'a real good game out of doors, in the garden and the sheds and the ruins. The rain will only make it jollier, and those who mind getting wet are funks.'
With the wind blowing in gusts, and sudden showers splashing down from all the roofs, the game promised some fun. Dr. MacGregor's was a first-rate place for hide-and-seek, with a number of outhouses built round a paved court, and the ruins of an old castle overlooking the garden.
Marjorie and Reggie stayed at 'home' in the front lobby, where they could hear calls both from out of doors or within; and the hiders dispersed themselves quickly.
Soon three shouts were heard, coming from different directions; and the pursuers ran out into the rain, which was beginning to fall again.
Hamish was quickly discovered in a window of the old ruin, for he could not resist the temptation of grinning good-naturedly down from his perch; but he escaped along the broken flooring while they were waiting at the foot of a stairway, and reached 'home' before they were aware.
'You didn't give us enough of a chase,' cried Marjorie to him through the streaming pane; then she went off, rather annoyed, to look for the others.
They hunted for some time among the outhouses, getting shower-baths of drops from the eaves; but no one was to be found. At last they saw a movement among some straw in the byre, and Marjorie made a dash forward, just too late to catch Allan, who slipped out and made for the door.
Reggie barred his passage.
'Unfair—different directions!' cried Allan; for it was the rule among the Stewarts and MacGregors that when two were chasing one they must both keep to the same route; and Reggie stood aside.
They were pretty fairly matched, pursuers and pursued; and for a long time Allan led the two others a chase among the maze of buildings; but at last, his foot slipping upon the wet paving-stones, he was captured by a bold dash from Marjorie.
'Only Tricksy now,' gasped Marjorie, pushing back her wet hair, which was clinging about her face; 'we haven't seen a sign of her; where can she be?'
'You have run enough,' suggested Allan; 'go in and let one of us take your place.'
Marjorie flashed a glance of indignation at him, annoyed that he should suppose that she was not going to see the thing out, and after drawing a few long breaths she and Reggie started off again.
By this time the rain had ceased, and a pleasant smell was rising from the damp earth and dripping trees.
No little footprints were to be seen in the garden; and it was impossible that Tricksy could have escaped observation had she been in the ruins or in any of the outhouses.
They hunted all over the house, then went into the field, and even climbed the dyke which separated the doctor's grounds from the moorland; but no Tricksy was to be seen.
'I believe she has gone beyond bounds,' said Allan, who, with Hamish, had grown tired of waiting and had wandered out to see what was going on; 'we said the garden and the field, you know.'
'Not she,' declared Reggie, perched outside upon the dyke, with the wind drying his wet face and clothing; 'we have taught her to play fair. She is only lying low in some place that we haven't thought of. Let's shout to her to call "cuckoo."'
They raised their voices and cried, 'Call cuckoo, Tricksy;' and Laddie, who had been shut in the house to keep him from spoiling sport, but who had made good his escape behind the boys, pricked up his ears and resolved to be useful.
A muffled voice was heard in response, and Laddie, with a bark, sprang towards the peat-stack and stood before it, wagging his tail and trying to make an entrance with nose and paws.
Some of the peats were tumbled aside, and Tricksy emerged, looking very indignant.
'A nice way to play,' she said, 'setting Laddie on to me when you couldn't find me yourselves.'
They tried to explain, but Tricksy's eyes were full of contempt, and her small figure seemed to grow taller with offended dignity.
'Such a nice hiding-place,' she said; 'and now you've gone and spoilt it all.'
'Don't be a little silly, Tricksy,' said Reggie to her in an undertone; and Tricksy allowed her dignity to subside.
Fresh hiding-places were chosen; and when at last the young people were so tired as to be disinclined to run any more, Marjorie suggested going indoors to see whether tea were ready.
The dining-room table was bare, and all faces fell.
'I'll just go into the kitchen and see what Elspeth is about,' said Marjorie; 'perhaps the servants are forgetting us.'
In the stone-floored kitchen, whither they all trooped after Marjorie, Elspeth was sitting knitting by the fireside.
'Elspeth, when is tea going to be ready?' inquired Marjorie, rather impatiently.
The girl looked up at her, then down again at her knitting with pretended indifference.
'Tea, Miss Marjorie? I wass thinking you would not be wanting any tea to-day.'
Marjorie's lips tightened, but she kept down the rising temper with an effort.
'Why not?' she asked. 'Here are Allan and Reggie and Tricksy from Ardnavoir; and we want our tea, please.'
Elspeth looked up, and seemed to see the others for the first time.
'Would you ask the young ladies and gentle men to wipe their feet on the rug, Miss Marjorie if you please? They are spoiling my kitchen floor.'
This request made the whole troop feel uncomfortable, and they began shifting from one foot to the other, conscious that they must have brought more mud into the house than the authorities were at all likely to approve of.
'All right,' said Marjorie impatiently; 'we are not coming in any further; but will you please get tea ready for us as soon as you can?'
'Get tea ready! And how am I to do that, Miss Marjorie, if you please, when the girdle hass been taken away out of the kitchen? I cannot be making scones on the open fire.'
Marjorie turned red and bit her lip.
'Oh, never mind the girdle,' she said. 'We'll do without scones for one day.'
'Indeed, Miss Marjorie, I never saw tea without scones. That may be the way in foreign parts, but there never wass tea in the West Highlands without scones; and I will be thinking you will have to wait till the girdle comes home again.'
A flash darted out of Marjorie's eyes; and she remained rooted to the spot for a minute. Then she took a sudden resolve and turned away, elbowing the others out of the room.
'Cat!' she muttered; 'I'll be even with her yet. Never mind, people; if she won't give us our tea we can get it for ourselves. Get cups and things out of the pantry, Hamish; and Reggie, you come with me.'
The larder window was rather high up from the ground and was secured by several iron bars.
With some difficulty they pushed up the lower sash a little way; and through the opening thus made Reggie contrived to wriggle his slight, thin body.
'Is there anything there worth carrying away?' said Marjorie, standing on tip-toe and peering in.
'Here's a cake,' said Reggie; 'and there are several pots of jam.'
'All right, hand them out. There's a pie; we might as well have that; serve Elspeth right for getting into a temper. Now let's come in with what we've got.'
Reggie squeezed himself through the opening, feet foremost, and dropped to the ground.
'Here—Hamish—Allan;' said Marjorie, entering the house; 'take these things to the dining-room. Have you any plates? No. I'll get them out of the pantry; and knives and spoons too. Bother, she's got the teapot in the kitchen; I'll have to go in and get it.'
She strode into the kitchen with flashing eyes and a haughty step; then stopped short in amazement.
'Elspeth!' she exclaimed; 'whatever are you crying for?'
There was no answer.
'Is it because of the girdle?'
The girl shook her head; the tears falling upon the knitting which she was holding with trembling hands.
'Is it because we are taking the things out of the larder?'
'Not that, Miss Marjorie.'
'Then whatever is the matter?'
By this time all the others had crowded in, looking very much astonished.
'Elspeth, are you ill?' asked Tricksy, her large dark eyes growing very round in her little face.
'No, Miss Tricksy; no, Miss Marjorie; it will be none of that; it will be Neil.'
'Neil!' exclaimed Marjorie, while the others looked more and more amazed. 'What's the matter with him? Neil is Elspeth's cousin, you know,' she explained.
'Neil, poor lad; he will hev been arrested, Miss Marjorie. They will hev taken him up for robbing the post-office! Eh, Miss Marjorie, your mother said you weren't to know, and it iss me that will hev been telling you. Och! the disgrace to an honest family!' and the girl threw her apron over her head and moaned and lamented to herself in Gaelic, while they all stood around her, speechless.
'Neil!' said Reggie; 'it's impossible.'
Marjorie had become deadly white, and Allan pushed the hair back from his forehead and stood staring, his hands in his pockets. Reggie pranced backwards and forwards, in uncontrollable excitement, while Tricksy's dark eyes were growing as large as saucers in her little face.
'Elspeth,' said Marjorie sharply; 'you're talking nonsense, it can't be true.'
'Indeed, Miss Marjorie, it's the truth I will be telling you; the police came and arrested him before his mother's eyes that very day just after he had been out with you on the boat, and he's before the Sheriff in Stornwell this very day!'
'But, Elspeth, he did not do it! Nobody could believe that old Neil would do such a thing!'
'Indeed, Master Allan, there are those that do, although Neil, poor laddie, would no more do such a thing than the laird himsel, or the king upon his throne! Appearances are against him, poor lad; and it's for appearances that they've arrested him.'
'What appearances, Elspeth? Tell us about it?'
'Well, Miss Marjorie, it's just this; one of the money orders that was stolen was sent back from Edinburgh Post Office; and it was Neil who had sent it away in a letter. It's from that they make out that it was Neil who stole it.'
'Neil couldn't have done such a thing,' broke in Reggie, with signs of a storm in his voice.
'Does Mother know? and Father?' asked Tricksy breathlessly.
'Indeed, Miss Tricksy, the laird's away at the trial, and Mrs. Stewart too, to be with Mrs. Macdonnell, poor soul; and Dr. and Mrs. MacGregor went away this afternoon. The whole island's away, except just those whose work obliges them to stay; and it's a sore disgrace to a respectable family, whateffer.'
'That's all right then, if father's there,' said Reggie confidently. 'He knows Neil far too well to believe such a thing of him, no matter what may have happened.'
'The laird can't help him much if the case goes against him, Master Reggie. It's an awful thing that the money order should have come out of the poor lad's letter; and it looks very bad.'
'But Neil couldn't have taken it,' protested Reggie; 'no matter where the order came from, it wasn't Neil who stole it.'
'Well, anyhow,' said Tricksy, 'I'll never speak to the Sheriff again, no matter what he does, if he lets Neil be put in prison.'
'The Sheriff only has to do his duty, Miss Tricksy; and if things go against poor Neil he can't help him.'
'Well, we'll stand up for him, no matter who doesn't,' declared Allan; 'and we'll write and tell him so.'
'Of course we shall,' joined in the others.
'It's very kind of you, I'm sure,' said Elspeth, wiping her eyes; 'we must just hope for the best. And now, young ladies and gentlemen, you must have your tea and not think too much about it; and Miss Marjorie, I'm thinking I must just make you a few scones!'
Little appetite was left to the young folks for the meal; and the half-hearted clatter of knives and plates soon died away.
'We'll stand up for old Neil, no matter what happens,' was the upshot of their deliberations; and Elspeth, coming in and out, dried her tears furtively with the corner of her apron.
Later in the evening a dog-cart drove up; and Dr. and Mrs. MacGregor alighted.
Marjorie ran down into the hall, while the others all clustered about the banisters and looked down.
'Mother,' said Marjorie, with a set face, 'we know about Neil; tell us how things have gone for him to-day.'
'The case is against him, so far,' replied Mrs. MacGregor.
A groan burst from upstairs, and Marjorie set her lips tightly.
'What will be done to him?' inquired Tricksy piteously.
'Nothing yet, dear; the case is not finished. He has to go to Edinburgh to be tried; and we hope that something else may be found out before that time.'
'Shall we see him before he goes?'
'No, he will not come back before then.'
'Where is he?' demanded Allan.
'At present he is in the—in the County Jail,' faltered Mrs. MacGregor.
'Poor Neil,' burst from the children.
'He will be kindly treated,' interposed the doctor; 'and it is only until the case comes up in Edinburgh.'
The tears rolled over Tricksy's cheeks; and Marjorie turned away and looked out of the window.
'And now,' said the doctor cheerily, 'you must not take the matter tragically yet. We must hope for the best. Neil must stand his trial like a man, and it isn't often that a miscarriage of justice takes place. He will have the very best advice, your father and I will see to that; and you may depend upon it that some fresh evidence will turn up before then, which will show matters in an altogether different light. In the meanwhile you must not go about looking doleful, as though you had made up your minds already that Neil would not be able to show a good case for himself.'
It was hard to be cheerful; and the young folk clustered about in melancholy groups until the dog-cart arrived, when the Stewarts unwillingly took their leave, with many promises on both sides to communicate whatever might come to light in the meanwhile.
'Now, Duncan,' said Allan, after the dog-cart had started; 'tell us what has happened?'
'Indeed, Master Allan; it iss ahl ferry unlucky indeed; and it iss ferry sorry I will be for puir Neil and for Mrs. Macdonnell. You will be knowing the night before the robbery wass committed Neil will have been spending the evening with the MacAlisters. He wass expecting a letter; and it will be a stormy evening and the mail steamer will not be coming in till ferry late so that the letters wass not sent away that night, but Neil wass allowed to look among them for his own. There wass a registered letter for the laird; and it come out in the evidence that Neil would see it, and that no one else but only Mr. and Mrs. MacAlister and Neil himself could have peen knowing that it wass there.'
'But what could make them think that Neil would break into the post-office and steal a letter? Neil, of all people!'
'Well then, the ferry next day Neil will pe sending away a letter, and in that letter wass one of the ferry orders that had been in the laird's letter.'
'But how do they know that it was the same order; and how can they be certain that it was Neil who sent it away. There must have been a great many orders presented in the Edinburgh Post Office that day.'
'They know that it wass the laird's order, Master Allan, because the gentleman who had sent away the orders had kept the number of them all; and they know that Neil had sent it away because the man he sent it to took it out of the envelope in ta post-office, and there wass a letter with it signed clearly in his own handwriting; "Neil Macdonnell."'
Allan sat up and pushed his cap to the back of his head.
'It's very strange,' he said; 'there must be some mistake!'
'How did poor old Neil take it, when he was arrested and all that?' asked Reggie.
'Neil wass ferry much astonished, Master Reggie, and could not pelieve it at ahl. He said the order he had sent away wass not the laird's but another one ahltogether. Afterwards he wass ferry angry; and in court he stood up as prave as a lion and said he had neffer seen the order and that he had neffer sent it away whateffer, and that it wass all lies. They will be showing him his name written on the order; and he had to own that it wass his handwriting, but he will not be knowing how it had come on the order. Then when some of the people didn't seem to pelieve him, he wass ferry angry again, wass Neil; and when the Sheriff said he wass to go and pe tried at Edinburgh he went out of the court in a terrible rage and a fury; and he said to us ahl that he would not go to Edinburgh, because if ta people here who wass his friends didn't peliefe him, they would not pe peliefing him neither in Edinburgh where they wass ahl strangers to him, and that he would be finding some way of escaping pefore he wass sent there and not be pringing disgrace upon an honest family. He will be saying a lot of foolish things, will Neil, puir lad.'
Mr. and Mrs. Stewart were in the hall when their children arrived. Tricksy flew into her mother's arms and burst into tears; Allan turned a grave, concerned face towards his parents; and Reggie looked inquiringly at his father without speaking.
'I see that you have been told about Neil,' said the laird in his kind voice. 'We had been hoping that the matter might have been cleared up without delay, and that it would be unnecessary that you should be informed of it. However, you need not despair; Neil is not the lad to have committed a dishonest action, and I am convinced that we shall find some evidence that will clear him.'
'And now,' said Mrs. Stewart, 'you must all go to bed, Allan as well as the others. It is late, and Tricksy is quite exhausted. Sleep well; you don't know what news may come in the morning! Something may be found out by that time.'
'I am sure,' said Tricksy still tearfully to Reggie as he said good-night to her in her little bed; 'I don't know what I should do if I hadn't a mother! It's great fun running about with you and the others, and staying out-of-doors for whole days at a time; but when we get hurt or sorry, it's Mummie that we want!'
Little sleep came to the boys that night. Each turned and tossed uneasily upon his bed, trying not to disturb the other; falling into broken dreams of being with Neil on the rocks in their own island, and awakening to a sense of the reality.
Early in the morning it became useless to keep up the pretence any longer. They rose and dressed and went out-of-doors.
By the garden gate two shaggy ponies were standing; and the boys were not at all surprised to see Marjorie and Hamish, who turned anxious faces towards them.
'Well,' said Marjorie, 'anything new?'
'Nothing since we saw you.'
'There hasn't been time, of course,' said Marjorie. 'We couldn't rest, so we came along to see you.'
'Let's go down to the shore,' said Allan. 'Can't talk here.'
A window was thrown open on the upper story of the house, and a little voice cried, 'Wait a minute, people! don't go away! I'm coming too.'
'Tricksy awake already!' said Marjorie; 'that child will make herself ill.'
In a few minutes a little figure emerged from the front door, and Tricksy ran towards them.
'What are you going to do?' she said. 'Is there any news?'
'Nothing at all, Tricksy,' said Marjorie; 'we were only going down to the shore to talk.'
The little girl slipped her hand confidingly into Allan's and walked beside him, trying to accommodate her steps to his long stride.
'Hullo, there's Euan Macdonnell,' said Allan. 'He was at the trial yesterday; let's ask him about it.'
The fine frank-faced young coastguard touched his cap to the girls and waited to be spoken to.
'Euan,' said Allan abruptly; speaking in Gaelic, which was always most convenient for the islanders if a conversation was likely to be long; 'we know about Neil. You were there; tell us about the trial.'
'Well, Mr. Allan, it was a very bad business, and we none of us expected it to go as it did. Poor Neil was most frightfully cut up about it, and no wonder, poor fellow. What he felt most was that some of the people were against him when he thought they would be quite sure to believe in his honesty, no matter what might have happened.'
'So they ought,' declared Allan. 'Any one who knows Neil in the least would know that whether he sent away that order or not, he would never have stolen it, and that there must have been a mistake.'
'Of course there must have been,' said Euan, 'and I'm glad to hear you say so, Mr. Allan.'
'Suppose things were to go wrongly,' said Marjorie; 'I mean, supposing that nothing is found out that will help to clear Neil when he comes before the Edinburgh court, what will he have to expect?'
Tricksy's eyes were growing wider, and the pink in Marjorie's cheeks became deeper.
'I am afraid the penalty for the poor lad would be two or three years in prison, Miss Marjorie. It's a serious crime, you know; house-breaking, and robbing his Majesty's mails. We can only hope it won't come to that.'
The hearers all drew a long breath, like a gasp.
'Let's go down and sit on the rocks,' said Marjorie abruptly. 'Now, Euan, tell us how you think it happened.'
'Well,' said Euan, 'the only explanation is, that that order came into Neil's possession without his knowing it.'
Allan nodded.
'You see, Miss Marjorie,' continued Euan, 'Neil made no secret of having sent off a post-office order that day. He had got one on the evening before, when he was at the MacAlisters', and he put it in the pocket of his reefer jacket. You know that new churn he got for his mother? Well, he was paying for that by instalments and this was one of the payments. The day after the robbery, he went into the post-office, got the order, put it into an envelope containing a note to say that he hoped to send the last instalment next week, and sent it away. But the order that came out of the letter was not the one that he bought at Mrs. MacAlister's that night; and the curious thing is, that he found the order that he believed he had sent away, still in his coat pocket when he went to look. At least that's the story he tells, poor lad.'
'Then,' said Allan, 'how do you account for the wrong order being in the letter?'
Euan pondered a minute, and then said, 'Mr. Allan, there's only one explanation of it, so far as I can see. Some person must have been trying to screen himself by throwing suspicion on to Neil. You say that there was more than one order in the laird's letter?'
'Yes,' replied Allan, 'and they don't seem to have heard anything about the others yet.'
'They will turn up some day, no doubt, and then the whole matter may be cleared up; but in the meanwhile there's nothing to go by to help the poor lad. Perhaps they may be traced before the case comes up in Edinburgh.
'Oh, I hope so,' cried the girls, 'and then they'll get their finger on the real culprit?'
'The person who did it must have put the order into Neil's pocket,' said Allan. 'How could they have managed it and what would make them think of Neil?'
'Well, Mr. Allan; you know how these country post-offices are kept. The letter-box is in the MacAlisters' kitchen, which is at the same time their shop, and where every one goes in and out. The box is never locked; and after the letters are sorted they often lie on the table for hours, waiting until the postman comes to take them away. Any one who was not honest could easily slip into the kitchen when Mrs. MacAlister's back was turned and do what they liked with the letters; but such a thing has never happened before. Now, whoever committed the robbery has seen that Neil was in the post-office that evening, turning over the letters; and he saw that Neil got a money order to send away. All this made him think that Neil was the one to fasten the guilt on to, so after breaking into the post-office that night he slipped into the house, unknown to Neil or his mother, and put the order where Neil was likely to take it for his own.'
Allan nodded approvingly when the coastguard paused in what was an unusually long effort for him.
There's something in that,' he said. 'But who would have done such a thing?'
'There is one man on the island who might have done it, and that man has had every opportunity.'
'Who is that?'
'Do you know a lad called Andrew MacPeters? He works for the MacAlisters sometimes.'
'I know him,' said Reggie, who had been listening but saying little. 'A red-headed man with foxy eyes.'
'The same,' said Euan. 'He is always in and out of the house; and most likely he was there that night and saw everything that went on. He has always hated Neil since he was a lad, and got a beating from Neil, who was much smaller than himself. He would only be too pleased to do him an ill turn. It shows a nasty, mean disposition that he should have taken the trouble to break open the box and throw the letters all about the shop when he only had to open it and take out what he wanted. Keep a look-out on that man, young ladies and gentlemen, if you want to find out what is at the bottom of the whole affair.'
'We will,' they all said.
'And if you could find out anything before the case comes up,' said Euan, 'you might be the means of saving the lad and his mother too; for she will be heart-broken if her son is not cleared, and that quickly.'
'We'll do all we can,' said Marjorie.
'Yes,' said Allan slowly and deliberately; 'I vote we all make up our minds not to rest until we find out who did it and get Neil cleared.'
'We will, we will,' cried all the others in a chorus.
'How are we going to manage it?' asked Tricksy, with eyes and mouth open.
The others did not reply.
'We will make a compact,' cried Marjorie, rising with sparkling eyes, 'and we'll all sign an agreement; something like this: "We hereby promise never to rest until we find out who committed the robbery and show that Neil didn't do it."'
'Yes,' said Tricksy; 'let's write it at once.'
'No pens or paper here,' said Marjorie; 'we'll write it down when we get into the house. Euan, you must join the compact too; we'll send you a copy for yourself. Each of us shall have his or her own copy to carry about wherever we go; and each copy shall be signed by every member of the compact. We'll form ourselves into a Society to prove that Neil is innocent.'
'So we shall,' said Allan; 'good idea that of yours, Marjorie.'
'That's all right,' said the youngest member of the Society; 'now, when are we going to begin?'
'You must give us time, Tricksy,' said Allan; 'it won't be so very easy;' but all the faces wore a more cheerful expression.
'There's a telegraph boy,' said Marjorie suddenly, 'do you see him?—just going in at the gates of Ardnavoir. Perhaps it's some news of Neil.'
'Run, Reggie,' said Allan, 'you are the best runner; and see whether it's anything of that kind.'
Reggie started off, and after an interval he came speeding back again.
It's something to do with Neil,' he said; 'come quickly.'