I knew it would be trouble. Adam Carmichael stood a few feet from Father with a frown on his tanned face and his hands behind his back. I avoided looking at him, although my heart raced and the blood rushed to my face. “I don't know what you've heard, Father.”
“Don't you, indeed? I've heard you've been up to all sorts of mischief.” Father did not move from his spot, and I hoped a red-hot spark from the fire would land on the most prominent part of his trousers.
I lifted my chin, saying nothing. What the devil had Adam Carmichael told Father? I suppose it was his duty to preach on me. Duty! Damn the man and damn his duty!
“I've heard about you hiding runaways from the police, going out on the Forth in a small boat and building fires in old churches.” Father recited a small catalogue of m
