Oh! yes. She knew well about bonny Allie Bain. She was in the kirk when she was married—“sair against her will. It was like a muckle black corbie carrying off a cushat doo. But the cushat got free for a’ that,” said the wee wifie, with nods and smiles and shrill laughter.
But she said nothing of the brother’s part in that which followed, though she told with glee how Brownrig had gotten his deserts before all was done, and how the bride went one way and the bridegroom went another, “carried hame wi’ sair banes in his gig.” She told how first Allison’s mother, and then her father, were put in the grave, where they both lay with the new stone at their heads, and how “bonny Allie” had come to say farewell to them there. She grew eager and eloquent when she came to her own part in the story.
“I was here mysel’, as I am maist days, for it’s a bonny place and halesome, though ye mightna think it here among the dead folk. I like to hae a crack with them that’s been awa’ for mony a year and day. My mother lies ower in yon nook, and the man I should hae marriet. My father and my brother were lost at sea.
“Oh! ay—and about bonny Allie. Weel, she lay down wi’ her face upon the sod, and lay lang there, and when she lifted it again it was white as the snaw, but there wasna a tear upon it. Then there came the bark o’ a dog that I kenned weel. He was sent after me once, though Brownrig denies it. So I made free to go in by; and says I, ‘Miss Allie dear, I hear the bark o’ the black dog, Worry, and I doubt his maister’s nae farawa’.’
“She was speakin’ ower the wa’ to the minister’s son by that time, and after a minute or twa she came awa’, put her face down on the grave again, and then she followed me. And when we came near to the foot o’ the brae, I garred (made) her take off her hose and shoon, and wade doon the burn a bittie that the dog mightna follow the scent, and I laid doon peats that she might step on them a bit o’ the way between the burn and my ain door.
“When she came in she sat still like ane dazed and spent, and never a word spake she. But I stirred up the fire and boiled the kettle, and said I:—
“‘Did ye break your fast afore ye came awa’?’
“‘There wasna time,’ said she.
“‘And ye had nae heart for your supper yestreen, and ye forgot ye’re denner, and nae wonder. But if ye’re thinkin’ o’ winning awa’ to Aberdeen this day, or even the morn, ye’ll need to tak’ something to make ye strong for the journey.’
“So she ate her bread and drank her tea, and then she lay down in my bed and sleepit the hale day. I was unsettled mysel’ that day, and I thocht I would gang up the brae to the Meikles and get some buttermilk that the mistress had promised me. So I darkened the window and locket my door. But I didna leave my key in the thecking (thatch) as I do whiles, in case any o’ the neebors micht send a bairn wi’ a sup o’ milk, or a bit from a new cut cheese. It’s weel to gie them a chance to open the door.”