“Nae a bit. I maun see ye oot o’ the toon.” They fought their way along the street, and out on the open moor, the greater part of which was still heather and swamp. Peat-bog and ploughed land was all one waste of snow. Creation seemed but the snow that had fallen, the snow that was falling, and the snow that had yet to fall; or, to put it otherwise, a fall of snow between two outspread worlds of snow. “Gang back, noo, Aggie,” said Cosmo again. “What’s the guid o’ twa whaur ane only need be, an’ baith hae to fecht for themsel’s?” “I’m no gaein’ back yet,” persisted Aggie. “Twa’s better at onything nor ane himblane. The sutor’s wife’s gaein’ in to see Grannie, an’ Grannie ’ll like her cracks a heap better nor mine. She thinks I hae nae mair brains nor a hen, ’cause I canna min’ upo’ things at war nearhan’ forgotten or I was born.” Cosmo desisted from useless persuasion, and they struggled on together, through the snow above and the snow beneath. At this Aggie was more than a match for Cosmo. Lighter and smaller, and perhaps with larger lungs in proportion, she bored her way through the blast better than he, and the moment he began to expostulate, would increase the distance between them, and go on in front where he knew she could not hear a word he said. At last, being then a little ahead, she turned her back to the wind, and waited for him to come up. “Noo, ye’ve had eneuch o’ ’t!” he said. “An’ I maun turn an’ gang back wi’ ye, or ye’ll never win hame.” Aggie broke into a loud laugh that rang like music through the storm. “A likly thing!” she cried; “an’ me wi’ my back a’ the ro’d to the win’! Gang back yersel’, Cosmo, an’ sit by Grannie’s fire, an’ I’ll gang on to the castle, an’ lat them ken whaur ye are. Gien ye dinna that, I tell ye ance for a’, I’m no gaein’ to lea’ ye till I see ye safe inside yer ain wa’s.” “But Aggie,” reasoned Cosmo, with yet greater earnestness, “what’ll ye gar fowk think o’ me, ’at wad hae a lassie to gang hame wi’ me, for fear the win’ micht blaw me intil the sea? Ye’ll bring me to shame, Aggie.” “A lassie! say ye?” cried Aggie,--“I think I hear ye!--an’ me auld eneuch to be yer mither! I s’ tak guid care there s’ be nae affront intil ’t. Haud yer hert quaiet, Cosmo; ye’ll hae need o’ a’ yer breath afore ye win to yer ain fireside.” As she spoke, the wind pounced upon them with a fiercer gust than any that had preceded. Instinctively they grasped each other, as if from the wish, if they should be blown away, to be blown away together. “Eh, that’s a rouch ane!” said Cosmo, and again Aggie laughed merrily.