‘Na, mother; it’s never sae dark theroot but there’s licht eneuch to ken I’m theroot and no i’ the hoose. I can aye draw a guid full breath oot i’ the open.’
‘Lat the laddie gang his ain gait, ’uman,’ interposed David. ‘The thing born in ’im ’s better for him nor the thing born in anither. A man maun gang as God made him.’
‘Ay, whether he be man or dog!’ assented Steenie solemnly.
He drew his stool close to his father where he sat at the table, and again laid his head on his knee. The mother sighed but said nothing. She looked nowise hurt, only very sad. In a minute, Steenie spoke again:
‘I’m thinkin nane o’ ye kens,’ he said, ‘what it’s like whan a’ the hill-side’s gien up to the ither anes!’
‘What ither anes?’ asked his mother. ‘There can be nane there but yer ain lane sel!’
‘Ay, there’s a’ the lave o’ ’s,’ he rejoined, with a wan smile.
The mother looked at him with something almost of fear in her eyes of love.
‘Steenie has company we ken little aboot,’ said Kirsty. ‘I whiles think I wud gie him my wits for his company.’
‘Ay, the bonny man!’ murmured Steenie. ‘—I maun be gauin!’