ssure himself that all was right, and that
there were no stragglers lying frozen in corners, or turned _avel_[6] in
the lirks of the knowes.

[Footnote 6: A sheep turns _avel_ when it so settles itself upon its
back in a hollow of the hill that it cannot rise.]

Then he went back to the onstead. The moon had gone down, and the
farm-buildings loomed very cold and bleak out of the frost-fog.

Mistress MacWalter was on foot. She had slept nearly two hours, being
half-an-hour too long, after wearying herself with raising Kit; and,
furthermore, she had risen with a very bad temper. But this was no
uncommon occurrence.

She was in the byre with a lantern of her own. She was talking to
herself, and "flyting on" the patient cows, who now stood chewing the
cuds of their breakfast. She slapped them apart with her stool, applied
savagely to their flanks. She even lifted her foot to them, which
affronts a self-respecting cow as much as a human being.

In this spirit she greeted Kit when he appeared.

"Where hae ye been, ye careless deevil, ye? A guid mind hae I to gie ye
my milking-stool owre yer crown, ye senseless, menseless blastie! What
ill-contriving tricks hae ye been at, that ye haena gotten the kye
milkit?"

"I hae been feeding the sheep at the pits, aunt," said Kit Kennedy.

"Dinna tell me," cried his aunt; "ye hae been wasting your time at some
o' your ploys. What do ye think that John MacWalter, silly man, feeds ye
for? He has plenty o' weans o' his ain to provide for withoot meddling
wi' the like o' you--careless, useless, fushionless blagyaird that ye
are."

Mistress Mac Walter had sat down on her stool to the milking by this
time. But her temper was such that she was milking unkindly, and Crummie
felt it. Also she had not forgotten, in her slow-moving bovine way, that
she had been kicked. So in her turn she lifted her foot and let drive,
punctuating a gigantic semi-colon with her cloven hoof just on that part
of the person of Mistress MacWalter where it was fitted to take most
effect.

Mistress MacWalter found herself on her back, with the milk running all
over her. She picked herself up, helped by Kit, who had come to her
assistance.

Her words were few, but not at all well ordered. She went to the byre
door to get the driving-stick to lay on Crummie. Kit stopped her.

"If you do that, aunt, ye'll pit a' the kye to that o't that they'll no'
let doon a drap o' milk this morning--an' the morn's kirning-d