A fugitive memory began to haunt the girl. She had met or heard of this
man before. The valley was divided between Glenavelin and Etterick. He
was not the Doctor, and he was not the minister. Might not he be that
Lewie, the well-beloved, whose praises she had heard consistently sung
since her arrival? It pleased her to think that she had been the first
to meet the redoubtable young man.

To them there entered the two boys, the younger dangling a fish. "It is
the big trout ye lost," he cried. "We guddled 'um. We wad has gotten
'um afore, but a wumman frichted 'um." Then turning unabashed to Alice,
he said in accusing tones, "That's the wumman!"

The elder boy gently but firmly performed on his brother the operation
known as "scragging." It was a subdued spirit which emerged from the
fraternal embrace.

"Pit the fush in the basket, Tam," said he, "and syne gang away wide up
the hill till I cry ye back." The tones implied that his younger brother
was no fit company for two gentlemen and a lady.

"I won't spoil your fishing," said Alice, fearing fratricidal strife.
"You are fishing up, so I had better go down the burn again." And with a
dignified nod to the others she turned to go.

Jock sprang forward with a bound and proceeded to stone the small Tarn
up the hill. He coursed that young gentleman like a dog, bidding him
"come near," or "gang wide," or "lie down there," to all of which the
culprit, taking the sport in proper spirit, gaily responded.