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"Rin an' fess het watter as fest's ye can, Grizzie," said the laird. "My dear Lady Joan, go and dress, or you will be frozen to death. We will do all we can. Cosmo, get the fire up as quickly as possible it is not quite out. But first you and I must get him into bed, and cover him up warm, and I will rub his hands and feet till the hot water comes." As the laird said, everyone did.
"It's ower late for ye to gang hame yer lane, dawtie," said the old man. "I'm nae that fleyt," answered Annie. "Weel, gin ye walk wi' Him, the mirk'll be licht aboot ye," said he, taking off his Highland bonnet, and looking up with a silent recognition of the care of Him. "Be a gude lass," he resumed, replacing his bonnet, "an' rin hame as fest's ye can. Gude nicht to ye, dawtie."
"He's a man well on to seventy," answered Cosmo, with a pang at the thought. "Ay; that'll be aboot it! There can be no doobt it was his father oor lord killt an' as little 'at efter he did it he gaed doon the braid ro'd to the deevil as fest's ever he cud rin. It was jist like as wi' Judas he maun gang till's ain.
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