She had not to wait long. A sound of rushing came through the heather, and in a moment or two, a fine collie, with long, silky, wavy coat of black and brown, and one white spot on his face, shot out of the heather, sprang upon her, and, setting his paws on her shoulders, began licking her face. She threw her arms round him, and addressed him in words of fondling rebuke:-- ‘Ye ill-mennered tyke!’ she said; ‘what richt hae ye to tak the place o’ yer betters? Gang awa doon wi’ ye, and wait. What for sud ye tak advantage o’ your fower legs to his twa, and him the maister o’ ye! But, eh man, ye’re a fine doggie, and I canna bide the thoucht ’at yer langest day maun be sae short, and tak ye awa hame sae lang afore the lave o’ ’s!’ While she scolded, she let him caress her as he pleased. Presently he left her, and going a yard or two away, threw himself on the grass with such _abandon_ as no animal but a weary dog seems capable of reaching. He had made haste to be first that he might caress her before his master came; now he heard him close behind, and knew his opportunity over. Stephen came next out of the heather, creeping to Kirsty’s feet on all-fours. He was a gaunt, long-backed lad, who, at certain seasons undetermined, either imagined himself the animal he imitated, or had some notion of being required, or, possibly, compelled to behave like a dog. When the fit was upon him, all the day long he would speak no word even to his sister, would only bark or give a low growl like the collie. In this last he succeeded much better than in running like him, although, indeed, his arms were so long that it was comparatively easy for him to use them as forelegs. He let his head hang low as he went, throwing it up to bark, and sinking it yet lower when he growled, which was seldom, and to those that loved him indicated great trouble. He did not, like Snootie, raise himself on his hindlegs to caress his sister, but gently subsided upon her feet, and there lay panting, his face to the earth, and his fore-arms crossed beneath his nose. Kirsty stooped, and stroked and patted him as if he were the dog he seemed fain to be. Then drawing her feet from under him, she rose, and going a little way up the hill to the hut, returned presently with a basin full of rich-looking milk, and _a quarter_ of thick oat-cake, which she had brought from home in the morning. The milk she set beside her as she resumed her seat. Then she put her feet again under the would-be dog, and proceeded to break small pieces from the oat-cake and throw them to him. He sought every piece eagerly as it fell, but with his mouth only, never moving either hand, and seemed to eat it with a satisfaction worthy of his simulated nature. When the oat-cake was gone, she set the bowl before him, and he drank the milk with care and neatness, never putting a hand to steady it. ‘Now you must have a sleep, Steenie!’ said his sister.