But a shadow passed, blurring the magic and Joanna looked up quickly to see Alec Peddie standing on the opposite bank. Alec, the lad from the nearest farm, was a handsome rascal of fifteen, supple as an Indian and almost as brown with a skin as soft as the corduroy of his breeches. He often came across the hill to help with odd jobs at Duntarvie, and in a sense was the children’s playmate. He was great at birdnesting, at draining ponds and damming streams. And in the Easter orgies of whin-burning he was the acknowledged leader. Himself in the grip of a curious still excitement, he would dare the others to jump after him over bigger and bigger bonfires; and Joanna especially would fly in a frenzy at his bidding over the great crackling bushes, her eyes tight shut, her hair full of sparks and her clothes singeing amid the smoke. Afterwards, when the flames had died down they would all rush about stamping on the embers, kicking up fiery spouts with their scorched shoes, and screaming like curlews in a gale. Only when the fires were quite out and black, would a certain estrangement in their relations with Alec reassert itself, and this would remain more or less until Easter came round again. He was useful to them, and in a way they loved him, but they did not trust him.

As he stood now looking across at Joanna with careless, glinting eyes that were the colour of the water below, Alec showed his white teeth in an impudent grin.

“Hullo, Alec!” said the girl shyly.

In reply the boy jumped over to her side, and immediately helped himself royally to her blaeberry wine. Then unasked he plunged his fingers into one of the baskets and empurpled his mouth widely with a great handful of fruit. “You look awful bonny, Jo!” he said thoughtfully with steady eyes on her, and again he crushed a mouthful of berries against his palate.

It was the first time Joanna had ever been called pretty to her face. She was moved, and did not know what to say.

“So do you!” she countered, bashfully; and at this Alec burst into a ringing appreciative laugh.

After that there was a silence between them, and Joanna gathered her things together and stood up. But the boy put out his hand hastily and touched her wet arm. He was looking at her oddly when she glanced into his eyes.

“If ye’ll come up yonder on the moor wi’ me, Joanna,” he said, rather fearful but with a word of cajolery in his rich voice, “I’ll show ye what lads is for.”