Linmill Stories. Robert McLellan

no,’ said Tam, and stampit oot past her. Dan ran oot tae.

      Syne they were back again, Tam yellin his heid aff. They trampit aa ower the hoose. The big ane gruntit in her sait. She kent naething, she said. Tam gat a lantern frae the scullery and gaed up to the front door.

      Shair eneuch, there were futemarks in the snaw.

      Tam telt Mary to bide wi her mither, but she peyed nae heed. She followed them up the drive.

      The futemarks led to the auld coach-hoose, and in at the door. Dan had left his gig there, and they lookit aa roun it, but there was nae sign ο a sowl. Then Tam saw the lether that led up to the laft, and stertit to sclim it. The ither twa stude watchin wi their hairts dingin. Tam gat his heid abune the level ο the laft flair, and held up the lantern.

      ‘She’s here,’ he said.

      He gaed on up. Dan elbowed Mary oot ο the wey and stertit to follow, but Tam cried doun.

      ‘Send Mary up.’

      Dan gaed back doun again to mak wey for Mary.

      Whan she won into the laft her faither was staunin haudin the lantern, starin at the faur waa. The wee daftie was staunin wi her back to it, haudin the bairn to her breist, and her een were fair stricken wi terror. The bairn was greitin its hairt oot.

      Mary made to gang forrit.

      ‘Cannie nou,’ said Tam. ‘She’ll mebbe hairm it.’

      Mary peyed nae heed. She gaed forrit to the daftie.

      ‘Gie me my bairn.’

      The daftie grippit the bairn aa the tichter.

      ‘Help me, faither,’ said Mary, and grippit the craitur’s twa wrists.

      Tam stude the lantern on the flair.

      ‘Leave her,’ he said, ‘and I’ll grip her.’

      ‘She’ll mebbe let it drap.’

      ‘Be ready to tak it.’

      Tam took the wee daftie by the wrists and twistit, and Mary poued the bairn oot ο her grip. As sune as Tam saw that Mary had it safe he felled the wee daftie to the flair.

      ‘Ye suldna hae dune that, faither.’

      ‘Mebbe no,’ said Tam, wonerin what had come ower him. ‘Is the bairn aa richt?’

      ‘I think sae.’

      ‘Thank God,’ said Dan, frae the tap ο the lether.

      They left the wee daftie whaur she was and gaed awa back doun to the hoose. The bairn was aa richt, and was putten back in the creddle. Tam gaed to see his wife, to fin if she had heard ocht ο the steer, but she was sleepin aff her tea, and kent naething. He made up his mind no to tell her a haet.

      But he had forgotten the wee daftie, and he caaed for Dan, and the pair ο them gaed back to the coach-hoose to fin her, ettlin to lock her in her bedroom till the doctor could be brocht frae the asylum.

      They couldna fin her. She had rin awa.

      Dan had to yoke his gig and drive awa to Kirkfieldbank for the polis, and there was an unco todae afore the wee daftie was fund, wanerin dementit on the back road to the Teaths, no faur frae the smiddy.

      She was taen awa back whaur she came frae, and the big ane followed her the very neist day, and Tam felt weill redd ο them. But his Yule was speylt, for aa that, for Mary had haen siccan a fricht that she wantit awa hame to Nether Affleck, and Dan insistit on takin her. Mrs Lauder was hurt, for Tam wadna hae a word said to her aboot the bairn bein liftit, sae she didna ken what was at the back ο things. She took a turn for the waur.

      She took to her bed athegither then, and didna lest lang. Tam blamed himsell for tryin to save siller on a richt servant, and took to the bottle. Afore he gaed his place had run to ruin.