‘He used to think whiles the bonny man was aboot!’ said Kirsty reflectively.
‘My mother was a hielan wuman, and hed the second sicht; there was no mainner o’ doobt aboot it!’ remarked David, also thoughtfully.
‘And what wad ye draw frae that, father?’ asked Kirsty.
‘Ow, naething verra important, maybe, but jist ’at possibly it micht be i’ the faimily!’
‘I wud like to ken yer verra thoucht, father!’
‘Weel, it’s jist this: I’m thinkin ’at some may be nearer the deid nor ithers.’
‘And, maybe,’ supplemented Kirsty, ‘some o’ the deid may win nearer the livin nor ithers!’
‘Ay, that’s it! that’s the haill o’ ’t!’ answered David.
Kirsty turned her face toward the farthest corner. The place was rather large, and everywhere dark except within the narrow circle of the candle-light. In a quiet voice, with a little quaver in it, she said aloud:
‘Gien ye be here, Steenie, and hae the pooer, lat’s ken gien there be onything lyin til oor han’ ’at ye wuss dune. I’m sure, gien there be, it’s for oor sakes and no for yer ain, glaid as we wud a’ be to du onything for ye: the bonny man lats ye want for naething; we’re sure o’ that!’