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"They've done ye at last, Wullie they've done ye at last," he said quietly; unalterably convinced that the attack had been organized while he was detained in the tap-room. On hearing the loved little voice, the dog gave one weary wag of his stump-tail. And with that the Tailless Tyke, Adam M'Adam's Red Wull, the Black Killer, went to his long home.
'Gin he was a loon, he wadna luik like a blate lass, ony gait, Betty. And there ye're wrang. 'Weel, weel, mem, hae 't yer ain gait, muttered Betty. 'I wull hae 't my ain gait, retorted her mistress, 'because it's the richt gait, Betty. An' noo ye maun jist gang up the stair, an' get the place cleant oot an' put in order. 'I wull do that, mem. 'Ay wull ye.
I flung myself impulsively on my companion, grasped his big brawny shoulders, and with my face close to his I whispered, “Pete, I believe the slide occurred at the gate.” “Well, hit did sound that-a-way,” admitted Pete composedly. “Pete,” I continued, “that butte has caved in on our trail!” “Wull, tenderfut, we ain’t hurt, be we?
It wad but raise a strife atween the twa, ohn dune an atom o' guid. She wud only rage at the laddie, and pit him in sic a reid heat as wad but wald thegither him and his wull sae 'at they wud maist never come in twa again. And though ye gaed and tauld her yer ain sel, my leddy wad lay a' the wyte upo' you nane the less.
'There's no are to interfere wi' yer wull, whatever it be. The hoose is yer ain to come and gang as ye see fit. But ye ken that, and Kirsty kens that, as weel's yer father and mysel. 'Mother, I ken what ye say to be the trowth, and I hae a gran' pooer o' believin the trowth. But a'body believes their ain mither: that's i' the order o' things as they war first startit!
"It'd be nice to have a fire to-night, Uncle Billy," said Ralph, as the two were walking home together in the twilight, from their day's work at the breaker. "Wull, lad," was the reply, "ye ha' the wood choppit for it, ye can mak' un oop."
'It's news ye're wantin', an' ye're no' gaun to get it. Ye brocht me here again' my wull, but ye'll no' cross-question me. I can gang hame even yet. It's no' the first time I've gane hame in the mornin', onyway. Teen wisely accepted the inevitable. 'Ye're no' gaun wan fit oot o' this hoose the nicht, she replied calmly, 'nor the morn either, unless I ken whaur ye are gaun.
But Cosmo instead of rising only laughed the more, and went on until at length Grizzie made use of a terrible threat. "As sure's sowens!" she said, "gien ye dinna haud yer tongue wi' that menseless-like lauchin', I'll no tell ye anither auld-warld tale afore Marti'mas." "Will ye tell me ane the nicht gien I haud my tongue an' gang hame wi' ye?" "Ay, that wull I that's gien I can min' upo' ane."
Gien ye forget them, there's nae houp for them, but the same deith 'ill keep on swallowin' at them upo' sea an' shore." "Ye speyk the trowth as I ha'e spoken't till mysel', Peter. Noo, hearken: will ye sail wi' me the nicht for Lon'on toon?" The fisherman was silent a moment then answered, "I wull, my lord; but I maun tell my wife."
And the siller a second round o' drinks wad ha' cost him went to his family and, sometimes, if the truth be known, one o' them that was no sae "mean" wad come aroond to see Wully at his shop. "Man, Wull," he'd say. "I'm awfu' short. Can ye no lend me the loan o' five bob till Setterday?" And he'd get the siller and not always be paying it back come Setterday, neither.
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