"It's only the empty arm-chair, great-granny," she replied.
"David Lynn died in that chair!" said the old woman. "I thought I saw him just now warming his feet. He always had cold feet. 'David,' I used to say to him, 'we'll never ken when you're dead, you that's already so cold about the legs.'"
"You've had a nice sleep, great-granny. Do you feel better?"
"Better! I's well." She stretched out a lean hand, and drew the girl nearer to her. "Someone's watching us from the corner," she whispered.
"That's the clock."
"Oh, aye, the clock, the moony-faced critter! Many's the time it's given me the creeps. What time is it?"
"Four."
"Four in the morning! I hear a queer sound in the room, lass."
"It's only the rain coming down and the beck running. There's been a thaw through the night."
"Ah, that's the reason I slept so long! I's been wondering for weeks back what it was I missed. When I wakened whiles I thought I was dead, the place felt so quiet-like."