WILD ROBIN.
39
He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister Janet calling him home.
"And what have ye for supper?" he muttered between his teeth.
"Parritch and milk," answered the lassie gently.
"Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair! Lang, lang may ye wait for Wild Robin: he'll not gae back for oatmeal parritch!"
Next a sad voice fell on his ear.
"Mither's; and she mourns me dead!" thought he; but it was only the far-off village-bell, which sounded like the echo of music he had heard lang syne, but might never hear again.
"D'ye think I'm not alive?" tolled the bell. "I sit all day in my little wooden temple, brooding over the sins of the parish."
"A brazen lie!" cried Robin.
"Nay, the truth, as I'm a living soul!
