‘The wull o’ God’s comin,’ insisted David. ‘But eh,’ he added, ‘I’m concernt for puir Maister Craig!’ ‘Weel, lat’s awa hame and see whether the twa bena there afore ’s!--Eh, but the sicht o’ the bonny corp maun hae gien Steenie a sair hert! I wudna won’er gien he never wan ower ’t i’ this life!’ ‘But what’ll we du aboot it or we gang? It’s the storm may come on again waur nor ever, and mak it impossible to beery her for a month!’ ‘We cudna carry her hame atween’s, Dauvid--think ye?’ ‘Na, na; it’s no as gien it was hersel! And cauld’s a fine keeper--better nor a’ the embalmin o’ the Egyptians! Only I’m fain to haud Steenie ohn seen her again!’ ‘Weel, lat’s hap her i’ the bonny white snaw!’ said Marion. ‘She’ll keep there as lang as the snaw keeps, and naething ’ill disturb her till the time comes to lay her awa!’ ‘That’s weel thoucht o’!’ answered David. ‘Eh, wuman, but it’s a bonny beerial compared wi’ sic as I hae aften gien comrade and foe alike!’ They went out and chose a spot close by the house where the snow lay deep. There they made a hollow, and pressed the bottom of it down hard. Then they carried out and laid in it the death-frozen dove, and heaped upon her a firm, white, marble-like tomb of heavenly new-fallen snow. Without re-entering it, they closed the door of Steenie’s refuge, and leaving the two deserted houses side by side, made what slow haste they could, with anxious hearts, to their home. The snow was falling softly, for the wind was still asleep. CHAPTER XXIX DAVID, MARION, KIRSTY, SNOOTIE, AND WHAT WAS LEFT OF STEENIE Kirsty saw their shadows darken the wall, and turning from her work at the dresser, ran to the door to meet them. ‘God be thankit!’ cried David. Marion gave her daughter one loving look, and entering cast a fearful, questioning glance around the kitchen. ‘Whaur’s Steenie?’ she said. ‘He’s wi’ Phemy, I’m thinkin,’ faltered Kirsty. ‘Lassie, are ye dementit?’ her mother almost screamed. ‘We’re this minute come frae there!’ ‘He _is_ wi’ Phemy, mother. The Lord canna surely hae pairtit them, gangin in maist haudin han’s!’ ‘Kirsty, I haud ye accoontable for my Steenie!’ cried Marion, sinking on a chair, and covering her face with her hands. ‘It’s the wull o’ God ’at’s accoontable for him, wuman!’ answered David, sitting down beside her, and laying hold of her arm. She burst into terrible weeping. ‘He maun be sair at hame wi’ the bonny man!’ said Kirsty. ‘Lassie,’ said David, ‘you and me and yer mither, we hae naething left but be better bairns, and gang the fester to the bonny man!--Whaur’s what’s left o’ the laddie, Kirsty?’