"Not like this. Why, you look like an old bear with a sheep-skin on.
Why, that coat's too big for you. What have you got underneath?"

"She isna a pit too pig. She wants a muckle great-coat to keep oot the
caud."

"Why, you've got a blanket on under it!"

"Ay. She chust happit a planket roond an' roond her potty, an' tied it
wi' a bit o' line to keep it oop, an' she's waarm as waarm a' but her
foots an' han's!"

"I should think you are," said Steve merrily. "You're as big round as a
hop pocket. You can hardly move."

"Oh ay, she can move when she wants to move. Hae ye got any
chilplains?"

"No, have you?"

"Cot any chilplains? Why, her han's an' foots are chust a' ane creat
chilplain, an' when she kets wairm they ding an' itch till she cauld
scratch awa' a' her skin."

"I'll ask Mr Handscombe to give you something for them."

"Nay, she winna tak' it. She canna' tak' pheesek."

"Nonsense! I mean to rub on."

"Oh, mebby she micht try a wee drap ootside."

"Well, how do you like having the weather so cold as this?"

"She wants to gang hame. When shall we sail back again?"

"Next summer, I hope. What nonsense! How could we sail when we're
frozen up?"

"Preak a way oot. She wadna mind helping."

"You don't know what you're talking about. But I say, I wouldn't dress
up so warmly as that now."

"Why, she's tressed oop wairmly!"

"I've only got this sheep-skin coat on. If you dress like this now,
what will you do when it grows cold?"

"Phwat!" cried Watty excitedly. "Ye dinna mean that she can be more
caud than this?"

"Yes, this is nothing. Wait a bit till the sun does not rise at all,
and it's all dark, and then I s'pose it's going to be tremendously
cold."

"Dinna say it, sir; dinna say it!"

"Why not? It's true enough!" cried Steve.

"Nay, she's lauchin' at her. Cauder! She could na pe mair caud than
the noo."

"Oh, very well; wait and see."

"Put she's chust choking her."

"Chust choking you!" cried Steve, laughing. "I tell you it's all true."

"Hey, then, what's to pecome of her?" groaned Watty. "She couldna pear
a pit mair caud, and she'll have to pe perried out here in the ice and
snaw. Ye'll chust tell her ane thing, Meester Stevey. She winna lauch
at her?"

"No, I won't laugh, Watty. What is it?"

"They keek oop a lot o' talk and clish ma claver aboot it kettin' dairk.
Is she coing to hae ferry short days--shorter than they are the noo?"

"There'll