Then he pulled out the red-hot _gad_, or iron bar, which he seemed to have forgotten ever since Annie came in, and, standing with his back to her to protect her from the sparks, put it on his anvil, and began to lay on it, as if in a fury; while the sparks flew from his blows as if in mortal terror of the angry man that was pelting at the luminous glory laid thus submissive before him.

In fact, Peter was attempting to hammer out more things than one, upon that _study_ of his; for in Scotland they call a smith's anvil a study, so that he ranks with other artists in that respect.

Then, as if anxious to hear the child speak yet again, he said, putting the iron once more in the fire, and proceeding to rouse the wrath of the coals: "Ye kent Jeames Dow, than ?" "Ay; weel that.

I kent Dooie as weel as Broonie." "Wha was Broonie ?" "Ow! naebody but my ain coo." "An' Jeames was kin' to ye ?" To this question no reply followed; but Peter, who stood looking at her, saw her lips and the muscles of her face quivering an answer, which if uttered at all, could come only in sobs and tears.
But the sound of approaching steps and voices restored her equanimity, and a listening look gradually displaced the emotion on her countenance.

Over the half-door of the shop appeared two men, each bearing on his shoulder the socks (shares) of two ploughs, to be sharpened, or set.