‘It’s a’ ’at ye ken, mother!’ answered Steenie with a smile. ‘But, ’deed, I got my information aboot the feet o’ fowk frae naegate i’ this warl’! The bonny man himsel sent word aboot them. He tellt the minister ’at tellt me, ance I was at the kirk wi’ you, mother—lang, lang syne—twa or three hun’er years, I’m thinkin’. The bonny man tellt his ain fowk first that he was gaein awa in order that they michtna be able to do wantin him, and bude to stir themselves and come up efter him. And syne he slippit aff his feet, and gaed awa up intil the air whaur the snaw comes frae. And ever sin syne he comes and gangs as he likes. And efter that he telled the minister to tell hiz ’at we was to lay aside the weicht that sae easy besets us, and rin. Noo by rin he maun hae meaned rin up, for a body’s no to rin frae the deevil but resist him; and what is’t that hauds onybody frae rinnin up the air but his feet? There!—But he’s promised to help me aff wi’ my feet some day: think o’ that!—Eh, gien I cud but get my feet aff! Eh, gien they wad but stick i’ my shune, and gang wi’ them whan I pu’ them aff! They’re naething efter a’, ye ken, but the shune o’ my sowl!’
A gust of wind drove against the house, and sank as suddenly.
‘That’ll be ane o’ them!’ said Steenie, rising hastily. ‘He’ll be wantin me! It’s no that aften they want onything o’ me ayont the fair words a’ God’s craturs luik for frae ane anither, but whiles they do want me, and I’m thinkin they want me the nicht. I maun be gaein!’
‘Hoots, laddie!’ returned his mother, ‘what can they be wantin, thae gran’ offishers, o’ siclike as you? Sit ye doon, and bide till they cry ye plain. I wud fain hae ye safe i’ the hoose the nicht!’
‘It’s a’ his hoose, mother! A’ theroot’s therein to him. He’s in’s ain hoose a’ the time, and I’m jist as safe atween his wa’s as atween yours. Didna naebody ever tell ye that, mother? Weel, I ken it to be true! And for wantin sic like as me, gien God never has need o’ a midge, what for dis he mak sic a lot o’ them?’
‘’Deed it’s true eneuch ye say!’ returned his mother. ‘But I div won’er ye’re no fleyt!’
‘Fleyt!’ rejoined Steenie; ‘what for wud I be fleyt? What is there to be fleyt at? I never was fleyt at face o’ man or wuman—na, nor o’ beast naither!—I was ance, and never but that ance, fleyt at the face o’ a bairn!’
‘And what for that, Steenie?
‘He was rinnin efter his wee sister to lick her, and his face was the face o’ a deevil. He nearhan’ garred me hate him, and that wud hae been a terrible sin. But, eh, puir laddie, he hed a richt fearsome wife to the mither o’ him! I’m thinkin the bonny man maun hae a heap o’ tribble wi’ siclike, be they bairns or mithers!’
‘Eh, but ye’re i’ the richt there, laddie!—Noo hearken to me: ye maunna gang the nicht!’ said his mother anxiously. ‘Gien yer father and Kirsty wad but come in to persuaud ye! I’m clean lost wi’oot them!’