Captivity

ree-mile walk to the little town. There was a corn factor's shop there at which her father dealt. She walked in proudly. It was market day and the place was full of people.

"Andrew Lashcairn says ye'll please to be sending up a sack of meal and a sack of corn the day," she said calmly to the factor who looked at her between narrowing eyes. The factor was a man imported to the district: he had not the feudal habit of respect for decayed lordship.

"Indeed he does? And why disna Andrew Lashcairn come tae dae his own begging?"

Marcella stared at him and her eyes flashed with indignation though her knees were trembling.

"He is not begging, Mr. Braid. But the beasts are crying for food and he's needin' the corn the night."

The people in the shop stopped talking about prices and listened greedily. They knew what Marcella did not.

"Then ye'll tell him tae go on needin'. When he's paid for the last sack, an' the one afore that, he'll be gettin' more."

"But of course he'll pay," she cried. "My fath