She was a delicate child, about nine years old, with blue eyes, half full of tears, hair somewhere between dark and fair, gathered in a silk net, and a pale face, on which a faint moon-like smile was glimmering. The old cow continued to hold her nose to be stroked.
"Is na Broonie a fine coo, Betty?" said the child, as the maid went on staring at her. "Puir Broonie! Naebody mindit me, an' sae I cam to you, Broonie."
And she laid her cheek, white, smooth, and thin, against the broad, flat, hairy forehead of the friendly cow. Then turning again to Betty, she said--
"Dinna tell auntie whaur I am, Betty. Lat me be. I'm best here wi' Broonie."
Betty said never a word, but returned to her mistress.
"Whaur's the bairn, Betty? At some mischeef or ither, I'll wad."
"Hoot! mem, the bairn's weel eneuch. Bairns maunna be followed like carr (calves)."
"I canna jist doonricht exackly tak upo' me to say," answered Betty; "but I hae no fear aboot her. She's a wise bairn."
"Ye're no the lassie's keeper, Betty. I see I maun seek her mysel'. Ye're aidin' an' abettin' as usual."
So saying, Auntie Meg went out to look for her niece. It was some time before the natural order of her search brought her at last to the _byre_. By that time Annie was almost asleep in the grass, which the cow was gradually pulling away from under her. Through the open door the child could see the sunlight lying heavy upon the hot stones that paved the yard; but in here it was so dark-shadowy and cool, and the cow was such good, kindly company, and she was so safe hidden from auntie, as she thought--for no one had ever found her there before, and she knew Betty would not tell--that, as I say, she was nearly asleep with comfort, half-buried in Brownie's dinner.
But she was roused all at once to a sense of exposure and insecurity. She looked up, and at the same moment the hawk-nose of her aunt came round the _door-cheek_. Auntie's temper was none the better than usual that it had pleased the _Almichty_ to take the brother whom she loved, and to leave behind the child whom she regarded as a painful responsibility. And now with her small, fierce eyes, and her big, thin nose--both red with suppressed crying--she did not dawn upon the sense of Annie as an embodiment of the maternity of the universe.