A cry of misery came from the room above. Isy started to her feet. But
Marion was up before her.
"Sit doon this minute," she commanded.
Isy hesitated.
"Sit doon this moment, I tell ye!" repeated Marion imperiously. "Ye hae no
business there! I'm gaein til 'im mysel!" And with the word she left the
room.
Peter laid down his spoon, then half rose, staring bewildered, and followed
his wife from the room.
"Oh my baby! my baby!" cried Isy, finding herself alone. "If only I had you
to take my part! It was God gave you to me, or how could I love you so? And
the mistress winna believe that even I had a bairnie! Noo she'll be sayin I
killt my bonny wee man! And yet, even for _his_ sake, I never ance wisht ye
hadna been born! And noo, whan the father o' 'im's ill, and cryin oot for
me, they winna lat me near 'im!"
The last words left her lips in a wailing shriek.
Then first she saw that her master had reentered. Wiping her eyes
hurriedly, she turned to him with a pitiful, apologetic smile.
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