the time we became hungrier and more anxious, while my inner turmoil grew. There was still some time to go before the harvest could be brought in to fill the storeroom again, and I could hardly bear to look at the pinched faces of the children. Aunt Blair wouldn't touch the laird's money.
"It's for your father," she snapped one day, when she saw Ritchie eye it longingly. "If we're in need, think what it's like for him."
I kept out of my aunt's way as much as I could. All the time I dreamed of how I would travel to Edinburgh, rescue Uncle Blair heroically from his dungeon, and bring him back in triumph to Ladymuir and how everyone would love me for it, and forgive me, even Aunt Blair—for being the cause of Annie's coming and her betrayal.
Once, after Aunt Blair had scolded me for taking a second oatcake, I almost started off toward Kilmacolm on my own, but I knew I'd never reach Edinburgh. I would have starved to death or been arrested as a vagabond long before I'd walked half the distance.
And then, early one morning, as I was rooting about in the barn, hunting for eggs, someone cleared his throat right behind me. I jumped and spun around.
"Tam! Where have you been? What are you doing here?"
He had the humble, servile look of a dog afraid of a whipping.
"Why, Maidie, I came to see how you were doing. I crept in last night when you were all in bed and slept here with the cows. I came because I heard what happened to your uncle, and—anda boutA nnie."
"Yes," I said bitterly, wanting to punish him. "No thanks to you for all that, Tam. I knew as soon as I saw her that she'd bring trouble here, but not even I thought she could be so wicked."
"I know, I know." He saw that I wasn't going to scold him anymore. He pushed his hand up under his filthy old bonnet and scratched at his head, looking a little happier, then began to pick a few wisps of straw off the front of his tattered coat.
"You'll be interested to hear, maybe, that that fine soldier of hers has got rid of her already. Less than a week she had, queening it around Sorn Castle. He threw her out in the middle of a rainstorm."
"Good," I said vindictively. "I hope she died of cold."
He shook his head again, looking solemn at the thought of it.
"Tam!" I stared at him. "You're not—you can't still be sorry for Annie! Not after what she's done! Tam, you haven't brought her here again?"
"No, no!" He shuddered. "I never want to see the girl again. If I'm lucky, I never will. She found herself another rascal straightaway. One of those flouncy military fellows, his red coat all covered over with shiny brass buttons and leather straps and whatnot. He's got more feathers on his hat and more silver braid on his cravat than that bully Dundas, so I guess Annie thought she'd done well for herself after all."
A shadow fell at the door, and Ritchie came into the barn. His brows twitched together as he recognized Tam.
"You're back, then," he said dryly. "Alone this time, I hope."
Tam twisted himself into a knot of writhing humility.
"Oh yes, indeed, young man. I came to tell you how very sorry I am for your trouble. I never knew what that girl would do! If I'd had any idea, I'd have cut my right hand off rather than bring her here."
He thrust out his scrawny arm as if to prove he was sincere. The sleeve of his coat, worn to strips of rag, fell away from it, and I was shocked to see how thin he was, his bones seemingly held together by nothing more than their casing of skin.
Anger died out of Ritchie's face. I could see he was torn between pity and contempt.
"Well," he said at last, "it wasn't your fault, after all, but we're in a bad way here, thanks to that girl." His eyes brightened as he looked down and saw a little bulge in the pocket of my apron. "Did you find any eggs, Maggie? The children are crying for their breakfast."
"Breakfast!" said Tam, a slick of spittle gathering in the corner of his slack old mouth. "Now there's the finest word I've heard in a long time. My insides are stuck together with hunger."
I could see that Ritchie was torn between his natural