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Drumsheugh lifted his head and looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but was rising, and sending forerunners before his face.
We've cleared awa the snow at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door. "There's a puckle Dunleith men " "Wha?" cried Jamie in an instant. "Dunleith men," said Drumsheugh. "Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?" "Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied ower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.
It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded, silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure limping painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they laid down their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had been put to a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked curiously at the doctor.
The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of his character. "He's awa noo," Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form; "an' there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee flichty."
"It's maist aggravatin', Drumsheugh, 'at ye 'ill stand there girnin' at the prices, as if ye were a puir cottar body that hed selt her ae coo, and us twal meenutes late. Man, get intae yer kerridge; he 'ill no be fat that buys frae you, a'll wager." Mind ye, a'm no gain' tae shove ahint if the engine sticks, for I hae na time.
After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some one that never came.
There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an' if ye kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his stable till she followed her maister " "Confoond ye, Weelum," broke out Drumsheugh; "its doonricht cruel o' ye to speak like this tae me.
"A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as weel as onybody thet a' wesna sae dainty an' fine-mannered as the town doctors. Ye took me as a' wes, an' naebody ever cuist up tae me that a' wes a plain man. Na, na; ye've been rael kind an' conseederate a' thae years." "Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony langer," interrupted Drumsheugh, huskily, "a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it."
"Are ony o' them shaping weel?" Drumsheugh had given himself away, and Domsie laid his first parallel with a glowing account of George Howe's Latinity, which was well received. "Weel, I'm gled tae hear sic accoonts o' Marget Hoo's son; there's naething in Whinnie but what the spune puts in." But at the next move Drumsheugh scented danger and stood at guard.
Mind the antiseptic dressings." It was market-day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down. "Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? Hoo dae ye feel? A' 'll no deny a' 'm lifted." Half-way to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the situation. "Tell 'us what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh."
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