The sunlight had not left the west, but had crept round some distance toward the north. Stars were shining faint through the thin shadow of the world. Steenie stretched himself up, threw his arms aloft, and held them raised, as if at once he would grow and reach toward the infinite. Then he looked down on Kirsty, for he was taller than she, and pointed straight up, with the long lean forefinger of one of the long lean arms that had all day been legs to the would-be dog--into the heavens, and smiled. Kirsty looked up, nodded her head, and smiled in return. Then they started in the direction of home, and for some time walked in silence. At length Steenie spoke. His voice was rather feeble, but clear, articulate, and musical. ‘My feet’s terrible heavy the nicht, Kirsty!’ he said. ‘Gien it wasna for them, the lave o’ me wud be up and awa. It’s terrible to be hauden doon by the feet this gait!’ ‘We’re a’ hauden doon the same gait, Steenie. Maybe it’s some waur for you ’at wud sae fain gang up, nor for the lave o’ ’s ’at’s mair willin to bide a wee; but it ’ll be the same at the last whan we’re a’ up there thegither.’ ‘I wudna care sae muckle gien he didna grip me by the queets (_ankles_), like! I dinna like to be grippit by the queets! He winna lat me win at the thongs!’ ‘Whan the richt time comes,’ returned Kirsty solemnly, ‘the bonny man ’ll lowse the thongs himsel.’ ‘Ay, ay! I ken that weel. It was me ’at tellt ye. He tauld me himsel! I’m thinkin I’ll see him the nicht, for I’m sair hauden doon, sair needin a sicht o’ ’im. He’s whiles lang o’ comin!’ ‘I dinna won’er ’at ye’re sae fain to see ’im, Steenie!’ ‘I _am_ that; fain, fain!’ ‘Ye’ll see ’im or lang. It’s a fine thing to hae patience.’ ‘Ye come ilka day, Kirsty: what for sudna he come ilka nicht?’ ‘He has reasons, Steenie. He kens best.’ ‘Ay, he kens best. I ken naething but him--and you, Kirsty!’ Kirsty said no more. Her heart was too full. Steenie stood still, and throwing back his head, stared for some moments up into the great heavens over him. Then he said: ‘It’s a bonny day, the day the bonny man bides in! The ither day--the day the lave o’ ye bides in--the day whan I’m no mysel but a sair ooncomfortable collie--that day’s ower het--and sometimes ower cauld; but the day he bides in is aye jist what a day sud be! Ay, it’s that! it’s that!’ He threw himself down, and lay for a minute looking up into the sky. Kirsty stood and regarded him with loving eyes. ‘I hae a’ the bonny day afore me!’ he murmured to himself. ‘Eh, but it’s better to be a man nor a beast! Snootie’s a fine beast, and a gran’ collie, but I wud raither be mysel--a heap raither--aye at han’ to catch a sicht o’ the bonny man! Ye maun gang hame to yer bed, Kirsty!-- Is’t the bonny man comes til ye i’ yer dreams and says, “Gang til him, Kirsty, and be mortal guid til him”? It maun be surely that!’