Steenie’s voice ceased, and Kirsty, thinking his prayer had come to an end, knocked at the door, lest her sudden appearance should startle him. From his knees, as she knew by the sound of his rising, Steenie sprang up, came darting to the door with the cry, ‘It’s yersel! It’s yersel, bonny man!’ and seemed to tear it open. Oh, how sorry was Kirsty to stand where the loved of the human was not! She had almost turned and fled.
‘It’s only me, Steenie!’ she faltered, nearly crying.
Steenie stood and stared trembling. Neither, for a moment or two, could speak.
‘Eh, Steenie,’ said Kirsty at length, ‘I’m richt sorry I disappintit ye! I didna ken what I was duin. I oucht to hae turnt and gane hame again!’
‘Ye cudna help it,’ answered Steenie. ‘Ye cudna be him, or ye wud! But ye’re the neist best, and richt welcome. I’m as glaid as can be to see ye, Kirsty. Come awa ben the hoose.’
Kirsty followed him in silence, and sat down dejected. The loving heart saw it.
‘Maybe ye’re him efter a’!’ said Steenie. ‘He can tak ony shape he likes. I wudna won’er gien ye was him! Ye’re unco like him ony gait!’
‘Na, na, Steenie! I’m far frae that! But I wud fain be what he wud hae me, jist as ye wud yersel. Sae ye maun tak me, what I am, for his sake, Steenie!’
This was the man’s hour, not the dog’s, yet Steenie threw himself at her feet.
‘Gang oot a bit by yersel, Steenie,’ she said, caressing him with her hand. ‘That’s what ye like best, I ken! Ye needna min’ me! I only cam to see ye sattlet intil yer ain hoose. I’ll bide a gey bit. Gang ye oot, an ken ’at I’m i’ the hoose, and that ye can come back to me whan ye like. I hae my buik, and can sit and read fine.’