the family circle, pushing his way past Jock to the corner nearest the
fire, his dog following at his heels.

"Eh! But it's bin gey stormy!" he said as he filled his pipe.

"Nae doot o' thot!" hazarded Jock, solemnly sucking away at his.

"The sna's gey deep, I doot," remarked Davie interrogatively.

"Some o' the reefs is fower foot an' mair," answered Peter
nonchalantly, between puffs of smoke.

The announcement caused no visible surprise. Maggie Jean made a
diversion.

"It's fair noo," she said, glancing through the window, "and there's a
bonny moon!"

"Aye," responded Peter. "There's bin nae sna' this guid while."

The party had settled down to silent contemplation of the cheery fire,
the men enjoying their pipes, Maggie Jean busy with her knitting. No
sound disturbed the peaceful calm except the regular faint click of the
rapidly moving knitting-pins.

Suddenly there was a loud noise at the door. It was not so much a
knock as the fall of some heavy body against it. Don's startled bark
roused all from their seats, and Peter made for the door at once,
having first quieted the dog by the forcible argument of a
well-directed kick. "It's a mon," he cried in surprise as he opened