She had so well cleared out its entrance, that it was now comparatively easy of access, else I doubt if the young laird would have risked the spoiling of his admirably fitting clothes to satisfy the mild curiosity he felt regarding Kirsty’s discovery. As it was, he pulled off his coat before entering, despite her assurance that he ‘needna fear blaudin onything.’ She went in before him to light her candle and he followed. As she showed him the curious place, she gave him the results of her reading about such constructions, telling him who had written concerning them, and what they had written. ‘There’s mair o’ them, I gether,’ she said, ‘and mair remarkable anes, in oor ain coonty nor in ony ither in Scotlan’. I hae mysel seen nane but this.’ Then she told him how Steenie had led the way to its discovery. By the time she ended, Gordon was really interested--chiefly, no doubt, in finding himself possessor of a thing which many men, learned and unlearned, would think worth coming to see. ‘Did you find this in it?’ he asked, seating himself on her little throne of turf. ‘Na; I put that there mysel,’ answered Kirsty. ‘There was naething intil the place, jist naething ava! There was naething ye cud hae pickit aff o’ the flure. Gien it hadna been oot o’ the gait o’ the win’, ye wud hae thoucht it had sweepit it clean. Ye cud hae tellt by naething intil’t what ever it was meant for, hoose or byre or barn, kirk or kirkyard. It had been jist a hidy-hole in troubled times, whan the cuintry wud be swarmin wi’ stravaguin marauders!’ ‘What made ye the seat for, Kirsty?’ asked Gordon, calling her by her name for the first time, and falling into the mother tongue with a flash of his old manner. ‘I come here whiles,’ she answered, ‘to be my lane and read a bit. It’s sae quaiet. Eternity seems itsel to come and hide in ’t whiles. I’m tempit whiles to bide a’ nicht.’ ‘Isna ’t awfu’ cauld?’ ‘Na, no aften that. It’s fine and warm i’ the winter. And I can licht a fire whan I like.--But ye hae na yer coat on, Francie! I oucht na to hae latten ye bide sae lang!’ He shivered, rose, and made his way out. Steenie stood in the sunlight waiting for them. ‘Why, Steenie,’ said Gordon, ‘you brought me to see your house: why didn’t you come in with me?’ ‘Na, na! I’m feart for my feet: this is no _my_ hoose!’ answered Steenie. ‘I’m biggin ane. Kirsty’s helpin me: I cudna big a hoose wantin Kirsty! That’s what I wud hae ye see, no this ane. This is Kirsty’s hoose. It was Kirsty wantit ye to see this ane.--Na, it’s no mine,’ he added reflectively. ‘I ken I maun come til ’t some day, but I s’ bide oot o’ ’t as lang’s I can. I like the hill a heap better.’ ‘What _does_ he mean?’ asked Francis, turning to Kirsty. ‘Ow, he has a heap o’ notions o’ ’s ain!’ answered Kirsty, who did not care, especially in his presence, to talk about her brother save to those who loved him. When Francis turned again, he saw Steenie a good way up the hill.