Kirsty watched his approach with gentle interest, while every movement of the youth indicated eagerness. Gordon had seen her on the hillside, probably long before she saw him, had been coming to her in as straight a line as the ground would permit, and at length was out of the boggy level, and ascending the slope of the hill-foot to where she sat. When he was within about twenty yards of her she gave him a little nod, and then fixed her eyes on her knitting. He held on till within a few feet of her, then pulled up and threw himself from his pony’s back. The creature, covered with foam, stood a minute panting, then fell to work on the short grass. Francis had grown considerably, and looked almost a young man. He was a little older than Kirsty, but did not appear so, his expression being considerably younger than hers. Whether self-indulgence or aspiration was to come out of his evident joy in life, seemed yet undetermined. His countenance indicated nothing bad. He might well have represented one at the point before having to choose whether to go up or down hill. He was dressed a little showily in a short coat of dark tartan, and a highland bonnet with a brooch and feather, and carried a lady’s riding-whip--his mother’s, no doubt--its top set with stones--so that his appearance was altogether a contrast to that of the girl. She was a peasant, he a gentleman! Her bare head and yet more her bare feet emphasized the contrast. But which was by nature and in fact the superior, no one with the least insight could have doubted. He stood and looked at her, but neither spoke. She cast at length a glance upward, and said, ‘Weel?’ Francis did not open his mouth. He seemed irresolute. Nothing in Kirsty’s look or carriage or in the tone of her one word gave sign of consciousness that she was treating him, or he her, strangely. With complete self-possession she left the initiative to the one who had sought the interview: let him say why he had come! In his face began to appear indication of growing displeasure. Two or three times he turned half away with a movement instantly checked which seemed to say that in a moment more, if there came no change, he would mount and ride: was this all his welcome? At last she appeared to think she must take mercy on him: he used to say thirty words to her one! ‘That’s a bonny powny ye hae,’ she remarked, with a look at the creature as he fed. ‘He’s a’ that,’ he answered dryly. ‘Whaur did ye get him?’ she asked. ‘My mither coft (_bought_) him agen my hame-comin,’ he replied. He prided himself on being able to speak the broadest of the dialect. ‘She maun hae a straucht e’e for a guid beast!’ returned Kirsty, with a second glance at the pony. ‘He’s a bonny cratur and a willin,’ answered the youth. ‘He’ll gang skelp throuw onything--watter onygait;--I’m no sae sure aboot fire.’ A long silence followed, broken this time by the youth.