“An’ yet,” argued Robert, “ye’ll tak thoucht aboot an auld umbrell? Whaur’s yer consistency, lass?”
“Gien I war tribled aboot my life,” said Janet, “I cud ill spare thoucht for an auld umbrell. But they baith trible me sae little, ’at I may jist as weel luik efter them baith. It’s auld an’ casten an’ bow-ribbit, it’s true, but it wad ill become me to drap it wi’oot a thoucht, whan him ’at could mak haill loaves, said, ‘Gether up the fragments ’at naething be lost.’—Na,” she continued, still looking about her, “I maun jist dee my duty by the auld umbrell; syne come o’ ’t ’at likes, I carena.”
So saying she walked to the lee side of a rock, and laid the umbrella close under it, then a few large stones upon it to keep it down.
I may add, that the same umbrella, recovered, and with two new ribs, served Janet to the day of her death.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE MAINS.
They reached at length the valley road. The water that ran in the bottom was the Lorrie. Three days ago it was a lively little stream, winding and changing within its grassy banks—here resting silent in a deep pool, there running and singing over its pebbles. Now it had filled and far overflowed its banks, and was a swift river. It had not yet, so far up the valley, encroached on the road; but the torrents on the mountain had already in places much injured it, and with considerable difficulty they crossed some of the new-made gullies. When they approached the bridge, however, by which they must cross the Lorrie to reach the Mains, their worst trouble lay before them. For the enemy, with whose reinforcements they had all the time been descending, showed himself ever in greater strength the farther they advanced; and here the road was flooded for a long way on both sides of the bridge. There was therefore a good deal of wading to be done; but the road was an embankment, there was little current, and in safety at last they ascended the rising ground on which the farm-building stood. When they reached the yard, they sent Gibbie to find shelter for Crummie, and themselves went up to the house.
“The Lord preserve ’s!” cried Jean Mavor, with uplifted hands, when she saw them enter the kitchen.
“He’ll dee that, mem,” returned Janet, with a smile.
“But what can he dee? Gien ye be droont oot o’ the hills, what’s to come o’ his i’ the how? I wad ken that!” said Jean.
“The watter’s no up to yer door yet,” remarked Janet.