only laughed grimly to herself; and as their things were not forthcoming, Elsie might as well have spared her generosity. If she could only have found her jacket she would have been contented, but this, too, had disappeared, and even if she had found the opportunity, Elsie would hardly have had the courage to go on her way with Mrs. Ferguson's dirty tattered gown tucked up and pinned together about her.

By-and-by Elsie began to think she saw what Mrs. Ferguson was thinking of. She noticed that she frequently looked along the road, and carefully watched for any vehicle whose wheels sounded in the distance. "She thinks mother'll come and fetch us," Elsie said to herself, "or at least the woman that I told her I lived with; but she'll never come here after us, that's certain."

But although Elsie had very little fear that they would be found, yet she was determined to get away somehow from this hovel.

Two whole days had elapsed. They had spent three wretched shivering nights on the floor of the loft. On the third day Elsie felt she could bear it no longer. She was in a state of suppressed excitement, and she felt that she could almost jump out of her skin.

It is very strange to notice through what small loopholes people often make their escape. The fairy-tale idea of passing through keyholes and up chimneys is scarcely more wonderful. Now, Mrs. Ferguson had been keeping a strict watch on these children, and not only herself, but her husband and two children had all been employed to watch. On the third day there stopped at the cottage door a lumbering vehicle, containing a man and woman and several baskets. The two alighted, and came into the cottage, where a great talking ensued, and many purchases were displayed and loudly discussed. The two Ferguson lads should have been with Elsie and Duncan, but they had climbed on to the top of the peat-stack by the side of the house, and were lying full length, peering unobserved through the dingy window. Suddenly Elsie perceived that they were alone, and without waiting to consider the possibilities of the case, she took Duncan by the hand, pushed him over the stone wall, quickly climbed it herself, and flew away over the grass as fast as her feet could carry her in the direction of the hills.

Here, again, fortune favoured her, as it sometimes does favour the most rash ventures. After running a goodish way, Elsie saw what she had never dreamed of finding—a roadway sweeping round the foot of the hill, and quite hidden from sight by a sudden rise in the ground. When they gained the road, they too would be hidden by the rising ground between them and the crofter's cottage, whereas now they could be seen distinctly by any one who should happen to look, for there was not even a tree or bush to shield them. Elsie pushed on quickly, not venturing to take even a peep behind until they had safely scrambled down the steep bank into the road, when, to her joy, she found that the stone walls enclosing the croft, even the little hovel itself, had completely disappeared.

"Elsie," said Duncan, catching his breath, and looking up to her with a glance of terror, "will they catch us?"

"No, I don't think so, Duncan," Elsie answered, quite gently. "We are quite out of sight. We must be quick, and find out where this road leads."

"I am so frightened, Elsie!" Duncan exclaimed, with a pitiful, appealing glance to her not to be angry. He had kept his terror to himself so long that he could hide it no longer. "Did you think they were going to kill us, Elsie?"

"No, Duncan, of course not," Elsie replied, not without a little shiver.

It was very noticeable how different Elsie's tone was from her usual one. There was no snapping up or ridiculing her little brother. She spoke more as if she were trying to persuade herself of the truth of what she said.

"But, Elsie, there was never any one came near," Duncan persisted. "Sandy Ferguson could dig a big hole, and put us in right easy. No one would know. Don't let him catch us, Elsie."

"He shan't catch us, dear," Elsie said, reassuringly, though she was not feeling very easy about it herself. It was only now that she began really to feel what a terrible time they had lived through in those last two days, and what unknown horrors they had escaped from. Duncan's words filled her with fear. To be overtaken and carried back to that dreadful woman seemed the worst thing that could befall them.

"I wonder where this road leads?" Elsie said, trying to make Duncan think of something else. "There's no one to ask."

"P'raps they might be like the man if you asked," Duncan said fearfully; "and you look so ragged in that dirty old gown, Elsie. They will think we are beggars."

Elsie had been thinking the same thing herself, though she was not going to tell poor Duncan—already frightened out of his senses—how uncomfortable she really felt. Alone in a country road, which led they did not know where, without a penny to buy food or, so far as they could see, a house from which they could ask some, what was to become of them?

"Elsie?" Duncan said presently, looking at her very wistfully.

"Yes, Duncan?"

"You won't be angry, will you?"

"No, I won't be angry," Elsie said impatiently. "What is it?"

"I feel so tired. Couldn't we go home?"

"Do you think you could find the way back?" Elsie asked.

"Oh! but we could ask for Dunster," Duncan said, eagerly. "People would tell us. I'd try to run very fast, Elsie."

"We should have to get back to that other road, where the cottages are, first," Elsie said, contemplatively. "Would you like to do that, Duncan?"

"Oh, no!" the child cried, in terror. "They'd catch us, Elsie, they'd catch us: I'm sure they would."

"We won't go there," Elsie said, trying to comfort him, for it was pitiful to see his fright. "Wait till I see a nice tidy person, and I'll ask all about it."

"There might be another way," Duncan suggested.

Just then they heard the sound of distant wheels. Duncan caught hold of Elsie's shoulder in an agony of fright. "It's the man!" he cried, trembling from head to foot, and turning as white as death. "He's coming, Elsie! he's coming to fetch us back!"

CHAPTER IX.—A FAIRY VISITOR.

W
ith what indescribable torments of dread the two children stood waiting it is difficult to express. Elsie's feeling of fright for herself was merged in care for Duncan. She had never seen him look like this before, and it startled her. His white face was drawn into an expression that changed it altogether. His eyes were wide and staring, looking along the road in a sort of fascination of terror.

Elsie held him close to her, drawing him round so that he should not see the approaching vehicle, still far distant, for on that still, lonely road the sound of hoofs could be heard at a great distance. Elsie listened, with her heart standing still.

"Duncan, Duncan, it is two horses!" she cried, presently. "And they are coming quickly. It is a carriage, not a cart."

But Duncan was so terrified that he had no reasoning power left in him. Even when the carriage came in sight he would not have been a bit surprised to have seen the crofter and his shrewish wife jump out of it.

Instead of that, however, the carriage contained a very fashionably-dressed, rich-looking lady and gentleman. Elsie could see directly that they were gentlefolk, who would never think of hurting two little children. She resolved to speak to them.