We sat down to a meal in the kitchen, Dan and me, and he kept them all in crack. For the mistress he promised to gather bog-bean when the time came, and she was in her very element; and there sat Dan McBride with Gude kens what evil in his head, his eyes smiling at the old dame and listening how she cured a young lass of a stomach complaint with the wee round caps of the wilks—"for mind you," says she, "each wee round cap will lift its ain weight o' poison frae the stomach."
"And the coosp,[1] now, mistress; Hamish here will no' be believing me, but there's de'il the halt better for the coosp than"—and so his talk went on, and him not believing one word. And when her mother would be rattling among the plates on the dresser, Dan would be bending over and speaking to the lass, and looking into her eyes, and the gruff old father saying never a word, and the two sons arguing where it was that Dan had jumped the Nourn burn when the bridge was carried away with the big spate. And when we had our fill o' eating, we followed Ronny up the Glen, for Dan would ken how the hogs were doing there now he was this length, and so we tracked through the Glen, leaving Finlay Stuart's house behind us. As we passed I saw a lass in the stable, and I wondered if Ronny had seen his mother yet.
It was just the long weary road to the South End that Dan and me travelled, so the reader can follow Ronny, for he told me his story long after of his coming when we needed him most. And this was the story that he told me:—
"Man," said Ronny, "when I took my leave o' ye at the Quay I just thought yon day would see it settled between Mirren and me, once and for all, and I'll no' be denying a queer happy feeling, for I felt I could be conquering everything that day; but maybe it was because o' the siller I had in my spluchan to be giving to my old mother, for if the want o' it will not be making a lad miserable, the having o' it will aye keep his spirits up.
"I would be thinking, inside of myself, that she would be sitting in the kitchen, my old mother, and shooing the wee white hen away from layin' in the bed, and then I would be coming in so quiet, and be putting my hands over her eyes, and she would be kenning me, and laughing, and greeting, for that I was back. Then I would be making her spread her brat over her knees, and be throwing the siller into her lap and listening to the cries o' her. But whiles among these thoughts I would be making pictures o' a limber long-legged lass that could work horse like a man, and would be on the hill after sheep when her neighbours would be stretching themselves in bed, and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. And I was seeing her standing on the top of the hill, wi' the morning breeze playing with her brown hair, wi' the clear sparkle in her eyes and her lips curled to whistle on the dogs, and aye I would be wondering if I would get a sight o' her when I passed her father's place.
"When I came near, there was the great barking o' dogs, and a black-and-tan collie came at me wi' the burses ridged on his back and his white teeth showing.
"'Chance, ye old fool,' said I, and at that he gave a yelp, and came at me daft to be seeing me, and jumping to be licking my face. I got him to heel, although, mind you, it did my heart good, his welcome, for we were long friends, and there were few, few that Chance would welcome. But I would aye be liking the dog since the first time I put my arm round Mirren, and that was years ago. She would have thrown it from her that time, for she was like a quick-tempered boy, but at her angry movement the old dog girned at me, and the rumble o' his growl made us look, and there he was ready to spring at me, and it makes me laugh yet; for Mirren, my own quick-tempered lass, fondled my hand at her waist to quieten him.
"'Mirren,' said I, and I took my arm away, 'there's just nothing for it but you should put your arm round me, for I can see you will only be tholing mine for the sake o' my skin.'
"'There will be many a blue sea below your feet before Mirren Stuart will be doing that,' said she, and I let her go a step in front of me, maybe to see the fine swing o' her, and her free mountain stride.
"I was thinking o' that time when we came to the gate o' Finlay's place, Chance and me, and the snow had been cleared from before the stable, and when I looked, there was the Uist pony standing at the door and Mirren busy at the grooming o' him, and her hair was tousled a wee and curled at the nape o' her neck, and her sleeves turned back.