‘Ay,’ returned Steenie; ‘I ken she wasna wiselike, sic as you and my mither. She needit a heap o’ luikin efter, as ye said.’ ‘And wi’ haein to luik efter her, he kenned that the thouchts that troubled ye wudna sae weel win in, and wud learn to bide oot. Jist luik at ye noo! See hoo ye hae learnt to luik efter yersel! Ye saw it cudna be agreeable to her to hae ye aboot her no that weel washed, and wi’ claes ye didna keep tidy and clean! Sin’ ever ye tuik to luikin efter Phemy, I hae had little trouble luikin efter you!’ ‘I see’t, Kirsty, I see’t! I never thoucht o’ the thing afore! I micht du a heap to mak mysel mair like ither fowk! I s’ no forget, noo ’at I hae gotten a grip o’ the thing. Ye’ll see, Kirsty!’ ‘That’s my ain Steenie!’ answered Kirsty. ‘Maybe the bonny man cudna be aye comin to ye himsel, haein ither fowk a heap to luik til, and sae sent Phemy to lat ye ken what he would hae o’ ye. Noo ’at ye hae begun, ye’ll be growin mair and mair like ither fowk.’ ‘Eh, but ye fleg me! I may grow ower like ither fowk! I maun awa oot, Kirsty! I’m growin fleyt.’ ‘What for, Steenie?’ cried Kirsty, not a little frightened herself, and laying her hand on his arm. She feared his old trouble was returning in force. ‘’Cause ither fowk never sees the bonny man, they tell me,’ he replied. ‘That’s their ain wyte,’ answered Kirsty. ‘They micht a’ see him gien they wud--or at least hear him say they sud see him or lang.’ ‘Eh, but I’m no sure ’at ever I did see him, Kirsty!’ ‘That winna haud ye ohn seein him whan the hoor comes. And the like’s true o’ the lave.’ ‘Ay, for I canna du wantin him--and sae nouther can they!’ ‘Naebody can. A’ maun hae seen him, or be gaein to see him.’ ‘I hae as guid as seen him, Kirsty! He was there! He helpit me whan the ill folk cam to pu’ at me!--Ye div think though, Kirsty, ’at I’m b’un’ to see him some day?’ ‘I’m thinkin the hoor’s been aye set for that same!’ answered Kirsty. ‘Kirsty,’ returned Steenie, not quite satisfied with her reply, ‘I’ll gang clean oot the wuts I hae, gien ye tell me I’m never to see him face to face!’ ‘Steenie,’ rejoined Kirsty solemnly, ‘I wud gang oot o’ my wuts mysel gien I didna believe that! I believe ’t wi’ a’ my heart, my bonny man.’ ‘Weel, and that’s a’ richt! But ye maunna ca’ me yer bonny man, Kirsty; for there’s but ae bonny man, and we’re a’ brithers and sisters. He said it himsel!’ ‘That’s verra true, Steenie; but whiles ye’re sae like him I canna help ca’in ye by his name.’ ‘Dinna du ’t again, Kirsty. I canna bide it. I’m no bonny! No but I wud sair like to be bonny--bonny like him, Kirsty!--Did ye ever hear tell ’at he had a father? I h’ard a man ance say ’at he hed. Sic a bonny man as that father maun be! Jist think o’ his haein a son like _him_!-- Dauvid Barclay maun be richt sair disappintit wi’ sic a son as me--and him sic a man himsel! What for is’t, Kirsty?’