It was the
home of one Mary Firth, a lone old woman who earned her living by
knitting stockings and burning kelp. Opening the door, Thora
entered the only room. There was no one within and the fire was
dead out, for Mary Firth had gone away that morning to Kirkwall to
sell her stock of knitting. Thora was cold and hungry; she
considered it impossible to reach Crua Breck before dark, and the
snow was falling heavily, so she determined to wait till old Mary
returned. She got a few pieces of dry peat from a corner and piled
them on the hearth, then sought for Mary's flint and steel, and
proceeded to kindle a fire. Its warmth was comforting, and she sat
there on a low stool until the peats glowed hot and the kettle
began to boil.
Still Mary did not return. There was no tea to be found in the
cupboard and the only particle of food was a piece of oaten
bannock. There were a few raw potatoes, however, and Thora put some
of these in the fire to roast.
She was looking out at the falling snow through the little window,
and expecting Mary, when in the distance she saw the figure of a
man walking in the direction of Lyndardy farm, and bending forward
as he fought against wind and snow. Behind him was a dog, and she
knew at once that the man was Colin Lothian.
Now Thora had been anxious to meet the old wanderer ever since I
had told her of the wreck of the Undine, and throwing her shawl
over her head she ran out of the cottage to bid him enter and share
the meal she had prepared.
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