Robbie pressed it hard against the cold stone of the cross.

Then he walked aimlessly away.

He had nowhere to go; he had nothing to do; and hour after hour he rambled through the narrow streets of the old town.

The snow still hung in heavy flakes from the overhanging eaves and porches of the houses, and toppled at intervals in thick clots on to the streets.

The causeways were swept dry.
Up and down, through Blackfriars Street, past the gaol that stood on the ruins of the monastery, along Abbey Street, and past the cathedral, across Head Lane, and into the Market Place again; then along the banks of the Caldew, and over the western wall that looked across the hills that stretched into the south; round Shaddon-gate to the bridge that lay under the shadow of the castle, and up to the river Eden and the wide Scotch-gate to the north.