The New World 257

“You should be the better laddie to him then.
Did your mither no tell you to be that afore she
died?”

“ Ay,” he answered, “ she telled me aye to hide
the bottle frae him when I could get haed o’t.
She took me into the bed to make me promise
that, and syne she died.”

“Does your father drink?”

“He hauds mair than ony other man in
Thrums,” Micah replied, almost proudly.

“And he strikes you?” Babbie asked, com-
passionately.

“That’s a lie,” retorted the boy, fiercely.
“ Leastwise, he doesna strike me except when
he’s mortal, and syne I can jouk him.”

“* What are you doing there?”

“|’m wishing. It’s a wishing stane.”

“You are wishing your father wouldna drink.”

“No, I’m no,” answered Micah. “There
was a lang time he didna drink, but the woman
has sent him to it again. It’s about her I’m
wishing. I’m wishing she was in hell.”

“What woman is it?”’ asked Babbie, shudder-
ing.

“J dinna ken,” Micah said, “ but she’s an ill
ane.”

“Did you never see her at your father’s
house?”

“Na; if he could get grip o’ her he would
break her ower his knee. I hearken to him
saying that, when he’s wild. He says she should
be burned for a witch.”

“ But if he hates her,” asked Babbie, “ how can
she have sic power ower him?”