Agnes went to the closet for her plaid also--of the
same tartan, and drawing it over her head and pinning it under her
chin, was presently ready for the stormy way. Then she turned to
Cosmo, and was pinning his plaid together at the throat, when the
wind came with a sudden howl, rushed down the chimney, and drove
the level smoke into the middle of the room. It could not shake the
cottage--it was too lowly: neither could it rattle its
windows--they were not made to open; but it bellowed over it like a
wave over a rock, and as in contempt blew its smoke back into its
throat.
"It'll be a wull nicht, I'm doobtin', Cosmo," said Agnes; "an' I
wuss ye safe i' the ingle-neak wi' yer fowk."
Cosmo laughed. "The win' kens me," he said.
"Guid farbid!" cried the old woman from the bed.
[Illustration: THE CLOCK AND THE PIPE SEEMED TO BE HOLDING A SILENT
TALK.]
"Kenna ye wha's the prence o' 't, laddie? Makna a jeist o' the
pooers 'at be."
"Gien they binna ordeent o' God, what are they but a jeist?"
returned Cosmo. "Eh, but ye wad mak a bonny munsie o' me, Grannie,
to hae me feart at the deil an' a'! I canna a' thegither help it
wi' the ghaists, an' I'm ashamed o' mysel' for that; but I AM NOT
gaein to heed the deil. I defy him an' a' his works. He's but a
cooerd, ye ken, Grannie, for whan ye resist him, he rins."
She made no answer. Cosmo shook hands with her, and went, followed
by Agnes, who locked the door behind her, and put the key in her
pocket.
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