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white beard like Santa Claus.”
    â€œAnd he brought a bag. I thought it might be full of toys, but it was full of vegetables. Turnips and cabbages and parsnips,” Maggie giggled.
    Nellie said, “That’s better than toys. We’ll have a real Christmas dinner now.”
    John laughed. “He said he owed you for some work you did.”
    Willie was astonished. “That must have been Charley! How did he find out where I live?”
    â€œHe knew all about you,” said Sara, jumping up and down with excitement so that her pigtails bounced. “He knew Papa had had a bad accident.”
    â€œAnd he knows you’re crazy about horses,” added Maggie. “But he sure was surprised to know you had gone to the pits to work.”
    â€œHe kept saying, ‘Dear me! Dear me!’ over and over,” Sara giggled.
    John shook his head at his excited little sisters. “What’s the mystery, Willie? Was that where you were? At Charley Howe’s farm the night you disappeared?”
    Willie nodded. He didn’t want to talk about it.
    His grandmother seldom interfered, but now she said, in her crackly voice, “That’s enough, bairns. Leave Willie alone. He’s tired.”
    â€œTwo more days of work, then you get Sunday off,” said John. “You can tell us about your adventures then.”
    The next morning before Willie had finished eating his porridge, Simon Ross was at the door. Willie looked up with a frown.
    â€œYou go along. You don’t need to wait for me,” he said, angrily.
    â€œIt’s no bother,” said Simon, grinning at him.
    â€œI know my way,” Willie insisted.
    â€œI’ll wait for ya,” said Simon.
    Nellie watched from the kitchen stove. She looked worried, but she didn’t say anything.
    Willie gulped down the last spoonful of his porridge and picked up his piece-can.
    â€œBye, Nellie,” he said.
    Outside, a half-moon was still shining in the starry sky. Willie tried to keep away from Simon, but the bigger boy kept brushing up against him. Once, when Willie bent to tie his bootlace, a nudge from behind sent him sprawling on his face.
    â€œOops! Sorry!” said Simon. He helped him to his feet as two men passed them talking earnestly to each other. Willie tried to run and catch up with them, but Simon blocked his way.
    All this time they had not said anything to each other. Now Simon said, “Why don’t that red-headed sister of yours have no boyfriends?”
    Willie was silent.
    â€œI guess she’s too ugly. All them freckles,” said Simon.
    Willie’s face grew hot with anger. He knew why Nellie didn’t have a boyfriend. Rory Maclean was a very strict father. He would hardly ever let Nellie go to a ceilidh, and whenever a lad came to call, he would glower at him under his black brows. The boy would grow more and more uneasy and leave early, not to come back.
    Secretly, Willie was glad. He didn’t want Nellie to get married and leave home. But he couldn’t bear to have Simon say mean things about her.
    â€œNellie’s pretty. She could have boyfriends if she wanted,” he muttered.
    â€œHaw!” mocked Simon. He spat on the ground. “What about the old hag, your grandma? People say she’s a witch. Is that right, Willie?”
    Tears of fury smarted Willie’s eyes. He was afraid if he said anything more, he would blubber. He heard men’s voices behind them and suddenly, he turned and dashed back.
    â€œCan I walk with you, please?” he begged, breathlessly.
    Both men stopped and peered down at him. They were strangers.
    â€œSure. Why not? Why, you’re only a bairn! Are you workin’ in the pit?”
    Willie swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m eleven years old. I’m workin’ as a trapper. Started yesterday.”
    â€œRight enough. Come along, then.”
    The men carried on with their conversation. Willie managed