ye, Allie? But ye dinna ken what it would be like never to have
put your foot in the snaw all your life. Think of that, Allie. But
never mind. Tell me about following the sheep through the drifts."

But the shadow, which the child had learned to know, had fallen on
Allison's face, and she answered nothing.

"Never mind, Allie dear, I'll tell you something. Do ye ken what that
little housie is? It has neither door nor window. There is a hole on
this side that is shut with a board. But it is a nice place. I have
been in it whiles. That is the place where John Beaton makes headstones
when he's no' away building houses on the other side of Aberdeen."

"Do ye mean stanes for the kirkyard?"

"Just that. He's a clever lad, John. He can do many things, Robin
says. He's Robin's friend."

"It maun be dreary wark."

"But that wouldna trouble John. He's strong and cheerful, and I like
him weel. He's wise, and he's kind. He tells me about folk that he has
seen, and places and things. And whiles he sings to me, and I like him
best after my father and mother and my brothers--and you," added
Marjorie, glancing up at Allison. "I'm no' sure which o' the two I like
best. I'll ken better when I see you together. Ye're the bonniest
far!" said the child, fondly patting the cheek, to which the soft wind
blowing upon it had brought a splendid colour. "Did Mrs Beaton never
tell you about `My John'?"

"Oh! ay. But I dinna mind about it. I wasna heedin'."

"But ye'll like him when ye see him," said Marjorie.

The mother was watching for them when they reached home, and Robin was
there too. It was Robin who took the child from Allison and carried her
in.

"Oh, mother! I have been over the burn, and I've seen the hills all
covered with snow and the sun shining on them, and it was beautiful.
And I'm not just so very tired. Are ye tired, Allie?"

"What would tire me? I would like to carry ye ilka (every) day to the
top o' Win'hill. It might do ye good."

Robin had never heard Allison say so many words at a time before.

"It has done Allie good, at any rate," said he as he seated himself by
the parlour fire and began to take off his little sister's wraps. Then
he took off her shoes and stockings "to warm her bonny wee footies," as
he said.

"Has it done her good? I'm glad o' that," said Marjorie, "for Allie has
had sore trouble, I'm nearly sure. She forgets me whiles, even when she
has me in her arms, a