She bent her ear to every sound that whistled round the old walls.

Then she turned again to the dead body, and found something new to arrange or alter in its position.
'He's a bonny corpse,' she muttered to herself, 'and weel worth the streaking.' And in this dismal occupation she appeared to feel a sort of professional pleasure, entering slowly into all the minutiae, as if with the skill and feelings of a connoisseur.

A long, dark-coloured sea-cloak, which she dragged out of a corner, was disposed for a pall.

The face she left bare, after closing the mouth and eyes, and arranged the capes of the cloak so as to hide the bloody bandages, and give the body, as she muttered, 'a mair decent appearance.' At once three or four men, equally ruffians in appearance and dress, rushed into the hut.

'Meg, ye limb of Satan, how dare you leave the door open ?' was the first salutation of the party.
'And wha ever heard of a door being barred when a man was in the dead-thraw?
how d'ye think the spirit was to get awa through bolts and bars like thae ?' 'Is he dead, then ?' said one who went to the side of the couch to look at the body.
'Ay, ay, dead enough,' said another; 'but here's what shall give him a rousing lykewake.' So saying, he fetched a keg of spirits from a corner, while Meg hastened to display pipes and tobacco.