A Daughter of Fife

The stranger was to have come about noon, but it was the middle of the

afternoon when he arrived. The storm was then nearly over, and there was a

glint of watery sunshine athwart the cold; green, tossing sea. Maggie had

grown anxious at his delay, and then a little cross. At two o'clock she

gave a final peep into the room and said to herself,--"I'll just get on

wi' my wark, let him come, or let him bide awa'. I canna waste my time

waiting for folk that dinna ken the worth o' time."

So when her lodger stood at her door she was at her baking board, and

patting the cakes so hard, that she did not hear him, until he said, "Good

afternoon, Miss Promoter."

Then she turned sharply around, and answered, "Maggie Promoter, if it

please you, sir."

"Very well," he said gravely, "good afternoon, Maggie. Is your brother at

home?"

"No, sir; he's awa' to Kinkell. Your room is ready for you, sir." As she

spoke she was rubbing the meal from her hands, and he stood watching her

with delight. He had wondered if her beauty would bear the test of

daylight, or if it needed the broad shadows, and the dull glow of the

burning turf and the oil cruisie. But she stood directly in the band of

sunshine, and was only the more brilliantly fair for it. He was not in

love with her, he was sure of that, but he was interested by a life so

vivid, so full of splendid color, grace, and vitality.

With a little pride she opened the door of his room, and stirred up the

glowing peats, and put the big rush chair before them,--"And you can just

call me, sir, when you want aught," she said, "I'll go ben noo, and finish

my cake baking."

"Maggie, this room is exactly what I wanted; so clean and quiet! I'm much

obliged to you for allowing me to use it." "You pay siller, sir, and

there's nae call to say thank you!" With the words she closed the door,

and was gone. And somehow, the tone of reserve and the positive click of

the latch made him feel that there would be limits he could not pass.

In a couple of hours he heard the little stir of David's return, and the

preparation for tea. Maggie brought his table to the fireside and covered

it with a square of linen, and set upon it his cup and plate. He had a

book in his hand and he pretended to be absorbed in it; but he did not

lose a movement that she made.

"Your tea is a' ready, sir."

He lifted his eyes then, and again her clear candid gaze was caught by his

own. Both were this time distinctly conscious of the meeting, and both

were for the moment embarrassed.