'My fiddle! my fiddle! She 'll be a' in bits,' he answered, and
turned to go up again.
'Sit down here,' said Miss St. John, 'and I'll fetch it.'
Though not without some tremor, she darted back to the room. Then
she turned faint for the first time, but determinedly supporting
herself, she looked about, saw a brown-paper parcel on a shelf, took
it, and hurried out with a shudder.
Robert stood leaning against the wall. He stretched out his hands
eagerly.
'Gie me her. Gie me her.'
'You had better let me carry it. You are not able.'
'Na, na, mem. Ye dinna ken hoo easy she is to hurt.'
'Oh, yes, I do!' returned Miss St. John, smiling, and Robert could
not withstand the smile.
'Weel, tak care o' her, as ye wad o' yer ain sel', mem,' he said,
yielding.
He was now much better, and before he had been two minutes in the
open air, insisted that he was quite well. When they reached
Captain Forsyth's garden he again held out his hands for his violin.
'No, no,' said his new friend. 'You wouldn't have Betty see you like
that, would you?'
'No, mem; but I'll put in the fiddle at my ain window, and she sanna
hae a chance o' seein' 't,' answered Robert, not understanding her;
for though he felt a good deal of pain, he had no idea what a
dreadful appearance he presented.
'Don't you know that you have a wound on your head?' asked Miss St.
John.
'Na! hev I?' said Robert, putting up his hand. 'But I maun
gang--there's nae help for 't,' he added.
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