Never doubting she would follow him, he had already built up a good peat-fire on the hearth, and placed for her beside it a low settle which his father had made for him, and he had himself covered with a sheepskin of thickest fleece. They sat silent for a while. ‘Wud ye say noo, Kirsty, ’at I was ony use til her?’ he asked at length. ‘Jist a heap,’ answered Kirsty. ‘I kenna what ever she or I wud hae dune wantin ye! She nott (_needed_) a heap o’ luikin til!’ ‘And ye think mebbe she’ll be some the better, some w’y or ither, for ’t?’ ‘Ay, I div think that, Steenie. But to tell the trowth, I’m no sure she’ll think verra aft aboot what ye did for her!’ ‘Ow, na! What for sud she? There’s no need for that! It was for hersel, no for her think-aboot-it, I tried. I was jist fain to du something like wash the feet o’ her. Whan I cam in that day--the day efter ye broucht her hame, ye ken--the luik of her puir, bonny, begrutten facy jist turnt my hert ower i’ the mids o’ me. I maist think, gien I hadna been able to du onything for her afore she gaed, I wud hae come hame here to my ain hoose like a deein sheep, and lain doon. Yon face o’ hers comes back til me noo like the face o’ a lost lammie ’at the shepherd didna think worth gaein oot to luik for. But gien I had sic a sair hert for her, the bonny man maun hae had a sairer, and he’ll du for her what he can--and that maun be muckle--muckle! They ca’ ’im the gude Shepherd, ye ken!’ He sat silent for some minutes, and Kirsty’s heart was too full to let her speak. She could only say to herself--‘And folk ca’s him half-wuttit, div they! Weel, lat them! Gien he be half-wuttit, the Lord’s made up the ither half wi’ better!’ ‘Ay!’ resumed Steenie, ‘the gude shepherd tynes (_loses_) no ane o’ them a’! But I’ll miss her dreidfu’! Eh, but I likit to watch the wan bit facy grow and grow till ’t was roon’ and rosy again! And, eh, sic a bonny reid and white as it was! And better yet I likit to see yon hert-brakin luik o’ the lost ane weirin aye awa and awa till ’t was clean gane!--And noo she’s back til her father, bricht and licht and bonny as the lown starry nicht!--Eh, but it maks me happy to think o’ ’t!’ ‘Sae it maks me!’ responded Kirsty, feeling, as she regarded him, like a glorified mother beholding her child walking in the truth.