Gang to yer Grannie;
she'll be feart aboot ye."
"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.
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