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Not a word was said to Gibbie concerning the liberty he had taken: the minister and his wife were in too much dread not of St. James and the "poor man in vile raiment," for they were harmless enough in themselves, but of Gibbie's pointing finger to back them. Three distinct precautions, however, they took; the pew-opener on that side was spoken to; Mrs.
For, when the father rose erect from her embrace, and was again the laird, there, to his amazement, still stood the odd-looking, outlandish intruder, smiling with the most impertinent interest! Gibbie had forgotten himself altogether, beholding what he took for a thorough reconciliation. "Go away, boy. You have nothing to do here," said the laird, anger almost overwhelming his precious dignity.
To the miserable wretch himself it seemed that he could no more keep from drinking whisky than he could from breathing air. I am not sure that his father's neglect was not on the whole better for Gibbie than would have been the kindness of such a father persistently embodying itself.
Even the poet, greatly wise in virtue of his sympathy, will scarcely understand a given human condition so well as the man whose vital tentacles have been in contact with it for years. When Gibbie was not looking in at a shop-window, or turning on one heel to take in all at a sweep, he was oftenest seen trotting. Seldom he walked. A gentle trot was one of his natural modes of being.
Then she got herself some breakfast, and after that tried to say her prayers, but found it very difficult, for, do what she might to model her slippery thoughts, she could not help, as often as she turned herself towards him, seeing God like her father, the laird. Gibbie sped down the hill through a worse rain than ever.
But even Gibbie might by this time have learned to foresee it! three times already had the same thing happened: the boot would not go on the foot. The real cause of the failure it were useless to inquire. Sir George said that, Sunday being the only day he could give to the boots, before he could finish them, Gibbie's feet had always outgrown the measure.
Hamish plunged into the stream and caught straw, papers and all in his arms. A shout from the lair made him look round, and there stood Gibbie, soaked with wet, and plastered with mud from head to foot. 'You must not be touching these, cried the lad; 'they're for Neil, all for Neil!
Sclater's, until its expression at length was that of pitiful unconscious reproof, mingled with sympathetic shame. He had never met anything like this before. Nothing low like this for all injustice, and especially all that sort of thing which Janet called "dingin' the motes wi' the beam," is eternally low had Gibbie seen in the holy temple of Glashgar!
They say real smart people don't any more except preachers who have to and women who want to. Miss Gibbie says she wouldn't believe in it if it hadn't been for the war, but I believe in it because some things have to be burned out, and Major Alden needed to have his pride purified. You knew he used to be a beau of Miss Gibbie's, didn't you?" Mrs. Burnham shook her head.
If he meets any one, let him say he is carrying a letter to Major Bellenden of Charnwood, but without mentioning any names." "I understand, madam," said Jenny Dennison; "I warrant the callant will do weel eneugh, and Tib the hen-wife will tak care o' the geese for a word o' my mouth; and I'll tell Gibbie your leddyship will mak his peace wi' Lady Margaret, and we'll gie him a dollar."
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