‘Isna ’t awfu’ cauld?’
‘Na, no aften that. It’s fine and warm i’ the winter. And I can licht a fire whan I like.—But ye hae na yer coat on, Francie! I oucht na to hae latten ye bide sae lang!’
He shivered, rose, and made his way out. Steenie stood in the sunlight waiting for them.
‘Why, Steenie,’ said Gordon, ‘you brought me to see your house: why didn’t you come in with me?’
‘Na, na! I’m feart for my feet: this is no my hoose!’ answered Steenie. ‘I’m biggin ane. Kirsty’s helpin me: I cudna big a hoose wantin Kirsty! That’s what I wud hae ye see, no this ane. This is Kirsty’s hoose. It was Kirsty wantit ye to see this ane.—Na, it’s no mine,’ he added reflectively. ‘I ken I maun come til ’t some day, but I s’ bide oot o’ ’t as lang’s I can. I like the hill a heap better.’
‘What does he mean?’ asked Francis, turning to Kirsty.
‘Ow, he has a heap o’ notions o’ ’s ain!’ answered Kirsty, who did not care, especially in his presence, to talk about her brother save to those who loved him.
When Francis turned again, he saw Steenie a good way up the hill.
‘Where does he want to take me, Kirsty? Is it far?’ he asked.
‘Ay, it’s a gey bitty; it’s nearhan’ at the tap o’ the Horn, a wee ayont it.’