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She was pleased that Mr. Grant should see the grand new thing that they had gotten. She listened to the talk of the men with a faint smile about her weary lips, her eyes upon the sonsy range. "Dod, it's a handsome piece of furniture," said Loranogie. "How did ye get it brought here, Mr. Gourlay?" "I went to Glasgow and ordered it special.
"Take it off," sneered his father, boring into him with a vicious eye; "take it off, serr; take off your dram! Stop! Somebody wrote something about that some poetry or other. Who was it?" "I dinna ken," whimpered John. "Don't tell lies now. You do ken. I heard you mention it to Loranogie. Come on now who was it?" "It was Burns," said John. "Oh, it was Burns, was it? And what had Mr.
As the market grew busy, Gourlay was the aim of innumerable eyes. He would turn his head to find himself the object of a queer, considering look; then the eyes of the starer would flutter abashed, as though detected spying the forbidden. The most innocent look at him was poison. "Do they know?" was his constant thought; "have they heard the news? What's Loranogie looking at me like that for?"
The poker-heid's the identical size o' the rim; I had it made to fit." Loranogie thought it a silly thing of Gourlay to concern himself about a poker. But that was just like him, of course. The moment the body in Glasgow opposed his whim, Gourlay, he knew, would make a point o't. The grain merchant took the bar of heavy metal in his hand. "Dod, it's an awful weapon," he said, meaning to be jocose.
"You could murder a man wi't." "Deed you could," said Loranogie; "you could kill him wi' the one lick." The elders, engaged with more important matters, paid no attention to the children, who had pushed between them to the front and were looking up at their faces, as they talked, with curious watching eyes.
"I've a good mind to tell my faither." "If ye wud " he said, and shook his fist at her threateningly. She shrank away from him. They went into the kitchen together. The range had been successfully installed, and Mr. Gourlay was showing it to Grant of Loranogie, the foremost farmer of the shire. Mrs. Gourlay, standing by the kitchen table, viewed her new possession with a faded simper of approval.
Then the boy laid the poker-head along the rim, fitting edge to edge with a nice precision. "Mother," he cried, turning towards her in his interest, "mother, look here! It's exactly the same size!" "Put it down, sir," said his father with a grim smile at Loranogie. "You'll be killing folk next." "Are ye packit, Peter?" said Gourlay.
I noticed the cigars were called 'Estorellas Best Quality, and when I was in last Saturday night getting an ounce of shag at the wee shoppie round the corner, I asked the price of 'these Estorellas. 'Ninepence a piece! said the bodie. Just imagine Jock Allan smoking eighteen-pence, and not being satisfied! He's up in the world since he used to shaw turnips at Loranogie for sixpence a day!
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