What ca' they ye ?" "Annie Anderson." "Ow, ay! I ken a' aboot ye weel eneuch.

Ye can lea' her wi' me, Alec; I'll luik efter her." "I maun gang back to my boat, Annie," said Alec, then, apologetically, "but I'll come in for ye again." So Annie was left with the smith, of whom she was not the least afraid, now that she had heard him speak.

With his leathern apron, caught up in both hands, he swept a space on the front of the elevated hearth of the forge, clear of cinders and dust, and then, having wiped his hands on the same apron, lifted the girl as tenderly as if she had been a baby, and set her down on this spot, about a yard from the fire, on a level with it; and there she sat, in front of the smith, looking at the fire and the smith and the work he was about, in turns.

He asked her a great many questions about herself and the Bruces, and her former life at home; and every question he asked he put in a yet kindlier voice.
Sometimes he would stop in the middle of blowing, and lean forward with his arm on the handle of the bellows, and look full in the child's face till she had done answering him, with eyes that shone in the firelight as if the tears would have gathered, but could not for the heat.
"Ay! ay!" he would say, when she had answered him, and resume his blowing, slowly and dreamily.

For this terrible smith's heart was just like his fire.