It was bad luck to go to Canongate. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. Otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. Here's the——" "Let me have one," cried a servant maid, running across the street, and in her haste forgetting to shut the door,—"here's the money. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. They want some fun, and there isn't any.
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