CHAPTER XXVII
Turkey's Trick
When we came to the farm on our way home, we looked in to see Kirsty,
but found the key in the door, indicating that she had gone out. As we
left the yard, we saw a strange-looking woman, to all appearance a
beggar, approaching. She had a wallet over her shoulder, and walked
stooping with her eyes on the ground, nor lifted them to greet
us--behaviour which rarely showed itself in our parish. My father took
no notice, but I could not help turning to look after the woman. To my
surprise she stood looking after us, but the moment I turned, she
turned also and walked on. When I looked again she had vanished. Of
course she must have gone into the farm-yard. Not liking the look of
her, and remembering that Kirsty was out, I asked my father whether I
had not better see if any of the men were about the stable. He
approved, and I ran back to the house. The door was still locked. I
called Turkey, and heard his voice in reply from one of the farthest
of the cow-houses. When I had reached it and told him my story, he
asked if my father knew I had come back. When he heard that he did
know, he threw down his pitchfork, and hastened with me. We searched
every house about the place, but could find no sign whatever of the
woman.
"Are you sure it wasn't all a fancy of your own, Ranald?" said Turkey.
"Quite sure. Ask my father. She passed as near us as you are to me
now."
Turkey hurried away to search the hayloft once more, but without
success; and at last I heard my father calling me.
I ran to him, and told him there was no woman to be seen.
"That's odd," he said. "She must have passed straight through the yard
and got out at the other side before you went in. While you were
looking for her, she was plodding away out of sight. Come along, and
let us have our tea."
I could not feel quite satisfied about it, but, as there was no other
explanation, I persuaded myself that my father was right.
The next Saturday evening I was in the nursery with my brothers. It
was growing dusk, when I heard a knocking. Mrs. Mitchell did not seem
to hear it, so I went and opened the door. There was the same beggar
woman. Rather frightened, I called aloud, and Mrs. Mitchell came. When
she saw it was a beggar, she went back and reappeared with a wooden
basin filled with meal, from which she took a handful as she came in
apparent preparation for dropping it, in the customary way, into the
woman's bag. The woman never spoke, but closed the mouth of her
wallet, and turned away. Curiosity gave me courage to follow her. She
walked with long strides in the direction of the farm, and I kept at a
little distance behind her. She made for the yard. She should not
escape me this time. As soon as she entered it, I ran as fast as I
could, and just caught sight of her back as she went into one of the
cow-houses. I darted after her. She turned round upon me--fiercely, I
thought, but judge my surprise when she held out the open mouth of the
bag towards me, and said--
"Not one grain, Ranald! Put in your hand and feel."
It was Turkey.
I stared in amazement, unable for a time to get rid of the apparition
and see the reality. Turkey burst out laughing at my perplexed
countenance.
"Why didn't you tell me before, Turkey?" I asked, able at length to
join in the laugh.
"Because then you would have had to tell your father, and I did not
want him to be troubled about it, at least before we had got things
clear. I always _did_ wonder how he could keep such a creature about
him."
"He doesn't know her as we do, Turkey."
"No. She never gives him the chance. But now, Ranald, couldn't you
manage to find out whether she makes any store of the meal she
pretends to give away?"
A thought struck me.
"I heard Davie the other day asking her why she had two meal-tubs:
perhaps that has something to do with it."
"You must find out. Don't ask Davie."
For the first time it occurred to me that the Kelpie had upon that
night of terror been out on business of her own, and had not been
looking for me at all.
"Then she was down at old Betty's cottage," said Turkey, when I
communicated the suspicion, "and Wandering Willie was there too, and
Andrew was right about the pipes. Willie hasn't been once to the house
ever since he took Davie, but she has gone to meet him at Betty's.
Depend on it, Ranald, he's her brother, or nephew, or something, as I
used to say. I do believe she gives him the meal to take home to her
family somewhere. Did you ever hear anything about her friends?"
"I never heard her speak of any."
"Then I don't believe they're respectable. I don't, Ranald. But it
will be a great trouble to the minister to have to turn her away. I
wonder if we couldn't contrive to make her go of herself. I wish we
could scare her out of the country. It's not nice either for a woman
like that to have to do with such innocents as Allister and Davie."
"She's very fond of Davie."
"So she is. That's the only good thing I know of her. But hold your
tongue, Ranald, till we find out more."
Acting on the hint Davie had given me, I soon discovered the second
meal-tub. It was small, and carefully stowed away. It was now nearly
full, and every day I watched in the hope that when she emptied it, I
should be able to find out what she did with the meal. But Turkey's
suggestion about frightening her away kept working in my brain.
