A Daughter of Fife

For a few minutes she stood looking at the condemned and unfortunate boat

in silence; then she turned and began to walk rapidly toward the nearest

cluster of cottages. The sea fog was rolling in thick, with the tide, and

the air was cold and keen. A voice called her through it, and she answered

the long-drawn "Maggie" with three cheerful words, "I'm coming, Davie."

Very soon Davie loomed through the fog, and throwing a plaid about her,

said, "What for did you go near the boat, Maggie? When you ken where ill

luck is, you should keep far from it."

"A better looking or a bonnier boat I ne'er saw, Davie."

"It's wi' boats, as it is wi' men and women; some for destruction,

some for salvation. The Powers above hae the ordering o' it, and it's

a' right, Maggie."

"That's what folks say. I'm dooting it mysel'. It's our ain fault some

way. Noo there would be a false plumb in yonder boat, though we didna ken

it."

"Weel, weel, she failed in what was expected o' her, and she's got her

deserts. We must tak' care o' our ain job. But I hae news for you, and if

you'll mak' a cup o' tea, and toast a Finnin haddie, we'll talk it o'er."

The Promoter cottage was in a bend of the hills, but so near the sea that

the full tide broke almost at its door, and then drew the tinkling pebbles

down the beach after it. It was a low stone dwelling, white-washed, and

heather-roofed, and containing only three rooms. David and Maggie entered

the principal one together. Its deal furniture was spotless, its floor

cleanly sanded, and a bright turf fire was burning on the brick hearth.

Some oars and creels were hung against the wall, and on a pile of nets in

the warmest corner, a little laddie belonging to a neighbor's household

was fast asleep.

Maggie quickly threw on more turf, and drew the crane above the fire, and

hung the kettle upon it. Then with a light and active step she set about

toasting the oat cake and the haddie, and making the tea, and setting the

little round table. But her heart was heavy enough. Scarcely a week before

her father and three eldest brothers had gone out to the fishing, and

perished in a sudden storm; and the house place, so lately busy and noisy

with the stir of nearly half-a-dozen menfolk, was now strangely still and

lonely.

Maggie was a year older than her brother David, but she never thought of

assuming any authority over him. In the first place, he had the privilege

of sex; in the next, David Promoter was generally allowed to be

"extr'onar' wise-like and unwardly in a' his ways." In fact there had been

an intention of breaking through the family traditions and sending him to

the University of Aberdeen. Latterly old Promoter had smoked his pipe very

often to the ambitious hope of a minister in his family. David's brothers

and sister had also learned to look upon the lad as destined by Providence

to bring holy honors upon the household. No thought of jealousy had marred

their intended self-denial in their younger brother's behalf. Their stern

Calvinism taught them that Jacob's and Jesse's families were not likely to

be the only ones in which the younger sons should be chosen for vessels of

honor; and Will Promoter, the eldest of the brothers, spoke for all, when

he said, "Send Davie to Aberdeen, fayther; gladly we will a' of us help

wi' the fees; and may be we shall live to see a great minister come oot o'

the fishing boats."