And they spoke one to another words which, though inaudible through the noise of the cart, were yet intelligible enough to Annie, with her own forebodings to interpret the expression of their faces.
"That'll be little Annie Anderson," they said.

"She's gaein hame to bide wi' her cousin, Robert Bruce, up i' the Wast Wynd.

Puir wee lassie!" For, on the way, Annie had been informed of her destination.
But she was too miserable already, because of leaving her old home, to care much to what new one she was going.

Had it not been for the absorption of this grief, she could not have been indifferent to the prospect of going to live with her cousin, although her dislike to him had never assumed a more active form than that of wishing to get away from him, as often as he came near her.
The cart stopped at Bruce's shop-door.

It looked a heavy door, although the upper half was of glass--in small panes.