There was however a moment of mute despair when they all came back and looked at each other for an explanation of the mystery. Then the children burst out crying one after the other, the boys resisting the impulse till nature was too strong for them, and producing a louder and more abrupt explosion from the fact of the attempted restraint. Their father stood looking round upon them all, his fierce eyes blazing, looking for some way of venting the rage that was in him. The lass disappeared, confound her! And Glendochart drawing back, the devil flee away with him! Drumcarro was indeed in evil case. When Jock, who was the last to give way, burst out without a moment’s notice into a violent boo-hoo, his father caught him suddenly a box on the ear which sent him spinning across the room. “Haud your confounded tongue, can’t ye--and no wake your mother.” “Eh, my poor laddie! Ye need not punish him for me, for here I am, and what is the matter with everybody?” said the weak voice of Mrs. Douglas at the door. She had been left alone during all this excitement, and her repeated calls had brought nobody. So that querulous, displeased, and full of complaining, unable to bear the silence and the want of information, the poor soul had wrapped herself in the first garments she could find, and tottered down stairs. She appeared a curious mass of red flannel, chintz, and tartan, one wrapped over the other. “What is the matter?” she said, looking eagerly round upon the troubled family. “Oh, mother,” cried little Jeanie weeping, running to her and hiding her face and her tears in one of these confused wrappings. “Kirsteen has gone away. She’s _run_ away,” said Jeanie, afraid not to be believed--and then the commotion was increased by a wail from the mother, who sank in a state of collapse into her large chair, and by the rush of Marg’ret from the kitchen, who perceiving what had happened flew to give the necessary help. “Could you not all hold your tongues, and let her get her night’s rest in peace?” Marg’ret cried. The scene was dismal enough, and yet had thus a rude comedy mingled with its real pain. Drumcarro stalked away when this climax of confusion was reached. “I was a fool ever to mind one of them,” he said. “Ye little whinging deevil, get out o’ my way. You’re no better than a lassie yourself.”