The Kelpie Silence followed the close of Kirsty's tale.

Wee Davie had taken no harm, for he was fast asleep with his head on her bosom.

Allister was staring into the fire, fancying he saw the whorls of the wimble heating in it.

Turkey was cutting at his stick with a blunt pocket-knife, and a silent whistle on his puckered lips.

I was sorry the story was over, and was growing stupid under the reaction from its excitement.