Closely questioned, Duncan told the truth, but cunningly, in such
manner that some disbelieved him altogether, while others, who had
remarked his haunting of the rocks ever since his arrival, concluded
that he had brought the child with him and had kept him hidden
until now. The popular conviction at length settled to this, that
the child was the piper's grandson--but base born, whom therefore
he was ashamed to acknowledge, although heartily willing to minister
to and bring up as a foundling. The latter part of this conclusion,
however, was not alluded to by Duncan in his narrative: it was enough
to add that he took care to leave the former part of it undisturbed.
The very next day, he found himself attacked by a low fever; but as
he had hitherto paid for everything he had at the inn, they never
thought of turning him out when his money was exhausted; and as he
had already by his discreet behaviour, and the pleasure his bagpipes
afforded, made himself not a few friends amongst the simple hearted
people of the Seaton, some of the benevolent inhabitants of the
upper town, Miss Horn in particular, were soon interested in his
favour, who supplied him with everything he required until his
recovery. As to the baby, he was gloriously provided for; he had
at least a dozen foster mothers at once--no woman in the Seaton
who could enter a claim founded on the possession of the special
faculty required, failing to enter that claim--with the result
of an amount of jealousy almost incredible.
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