For one moment, with the quick flashing response of the childlike imagination of the Celt, she fancied she saw the Lord himself.

Another woman might have made a more serious mistake, and seen there only a child.

Often had Janet pondered, as she sat alone on the great mountain, while Robert was with the sheep, or she lay awake by his side at night, with the wind howling about the cottage, whether the Lord might not sometimes take a lonely walk to look after such solitary sheep of his flock as they, and let them know he had not lost sight of them, for all the ups and downs of the hills.
There stood the child, and whether he was the Lord or not, he was evidently hungry.

Ah! who could tell but the Lord was actually hungry in every one of his hungering little ones! In the mean time--only it was but thought-time, not clock-time--Gibbie stood motionless in the middle of the floor, smiling his innocent smile, asking for nothing, hinting at nothing, but resting his wild calm eyes, with a sense of safety and mother-presence, upon the grey thoughtful face of the gazing woman.
Her awe deepened; it seemed to descend upon her and fold her in as with a mantle.

Involuntarily she bowed her head, and stepping to him took him by the hand, and led him to the stool she had left.
There she made him sit, while she brought forward her table, white with scrubbing, took from a hole in the wall and set upon it a platter of oatcakes, carried a wooden bowl to her dairy in the rock through a whitewashed door, and bringing it back filled, half with cream half with milk, set that also on the table.