thing rich and complete, even to the black silk stockings and shoes on
the small, useless feet, and the white ruffles half hiding the twisted
wrists and deformed hands.

"Yes, I am the Earl of Cairnforth. What did you want to say to me?"

He was so bewildered, the rough shepherd, who had spent all his life on
the hill-sides, and never seen or imagined so sad a sight as this, that
at first he could not find a word. Then he said, hanging back and
speaking confusedly and humbly, "I ask your pardon, my lord--I dina
ken--I'll no trouble ye the day."

"But you do not trouble me at all. Mr. Menteith is not here yet, and I
know nothing about business; still, if you wished to speak to me, do so;
I am Lord Cairnforth."

"Are ye?" said the shepherd, evidently bewildered still, so that he
forgot his natural awe for his feudal superior. "Are ye the countess's
bairn, that's just the age o' our Dougal? Dougal's ane o' the
gamekeepers, ye ken--sic a braw fellow--sax feet three. Ye'll hae
seen him, Maybe?"

"No, but I should like to see him. And yourself--are you a tenant of
mine, and what did you want with me?"

Encouraged by the kindly voice, and his own self-interest becoming
prominent once more, old Dougal told his tale--not an uncommon one
--of sheep lost on the hill-side, and one misfortune following
another, until a large family, children and orphan grandchildren, were
driven at last to want the "sup o' parritch" for daily food, sinking to