She had agreed to put nine lighted candles in each of our cottage windows at ten o'clock, but had declined to go out of her kitchen to see a procession, hear a band, or look at a bonfire.

She had had a fair sickenin' day, an amount of work too wearifu' for one person by her lane.

She hoped that the bonfire wasna built o' Mrs.Sinkler's coals nor Mr.Macbrose's kindlings, nor soaked with Mr.Cameron's paraffin; and she finished with the customary, but irrelative and exasperating, allusion to the exceedingly nice family with whom she had live in Glasgy.
And still we toiled upward, keeping our doubts to ourselves.

Jean was limping bravely, supported by Robin Anstruther's arm.

Mr.Macdonald was ardently helping Francesca, who can climb like a chamois, but would doubtless rather be assisted.