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"Ow, Mr Runcie himsel', of coorse!" answered the laird. "Wull I pit ane on to you?" "Did ye speir leave for me tu?" asked the righteous maiden. "Ow, na; but I'll tell him the neist time I see him." "I 'm nae for ony," said Phemy. The fish wanted little cooking.
"I'm tellin' you, Jimmy, the C.O. is no the man for tae mak' a show of himself like that for naething. These tin bunnets must be some use. Wull we pit oors on?" "Awa' hame, and bile your held!" replied the unresponsive James. "They'll no stop a whish-bang," conceded the apostle of progress, "but they would keep off splunters, and a wheen bullets, and and "
'But he's a bonny singer. And noo, wull ye tell me hoo we're to win back to Drem the nicht? 'Dod, we'll make a nicht o't, said the other, as Merton was carried into the police-station. He permitted himself to be lifted into one of the cells, and then remarked, in the most silvery tones: 'Very many thanks, my good men.
Ye've seen the wife and the bairn, the wee ane wi' the fair curly pow. Ye ken the auld hoose. It'll be mony a lang day afore I see them again, if iver I come back ava. There's naebody left to care for them. They'll be starvin' soon, lad. Wull ye wull ye look doon?" Poor Davy Spink stopped here, and covered his face with his big sunburnt hands. A sudden gush of sympathy filled Ruby's heart.
He'll be thrown amang them who've ne'er had to gie thocht to the morrow and the morrow's morrow; who, if ever they've known the pinch o' poverty, ha' clean forgotten. But wull he care what they're thinkin' o' him, and saying, maybe, behind his back? Not he, if he be a true Scot. He'll gang his ain gait, satisfied if he but think he's doing richt as he sees and believes the richt to be.
But it's the man who strikes wi' his fist closed firm who knocks his opponent doon. Ask the Germans what they think o' the close fisted Scots they've met frae ane end o' France to the other! And the Scot wull aye be slow to part wi' his siller. He'll be wanting to know why and hoo comes it he should be spending his bawbees. But he'll be slow to part wi' other things, too.
"I wadna hae muckle chance o' duin' onything, gien a' body was like you. But did ye never hear tell o' ane 'at said:'Ye wad du naething for nane o' mine, sae ye refeesed mysel'?" "Deed, an' I wull refeese yersel'," returned the old man. "Sic a chield for jaw an'cheek saw I never nane as the auld sang says! Whaur on this earth cam ye frae?"
"Weel, I'll gie ye auchteen pence, an' considerin' a' 'at 's to be dune wi' what's left, ye'll hae to grant it 's no an oonfair portion." "Weel, weel, Grizzie! I'm thinkin' I'll hae to be content." "'Deed, an' ye wull, sir! Ye s' hae nae mair." That night the old laird slept soundly, but Cosmo, ever on the brink of unconsciousness, was blown back by a fresh gust of gladness.
"That is pretty big odds," said Ben, with a shake of the head. "So it is," agreed Dick. "But the patriots will give a good account of themselves when the time comes, I feel certain." "Yah, ve vill gif ein goot accound mit mysellufs," said Fritz, the Dutch soldier. "Just listen to thot, wull yez?" remarked Tim, scathingly. "Shure an' there is agotism fur yez!"
Yet when his wife was for starting out to seek some tidings of the boy, he stopped her wrathfully. "Nay, Margaret," said he; "thou shalt na go traipsing around the town like a hen wi' but one chick. I wull na ha' thee made a laughing-stock by all the fools in Stratford."
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