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Hunchback Wullie had told her that the old grey house on Ben Grief used to be her home, and that the lands all about had belonged to her father. But they were his no longer and she was forbidden to pass the old grey house, or even to speak of it. Andrew Lashcairn, Aunt Janet, two women servants and a man who never seemed to have any wages for their work lived with Marcella at the farm.
At the next he was down at the table, his head buried in his hands, his whole figure shaking, as he cried in choking voice: "Eh, Wullie, Wullie, they're all agin us." David found that life with his father now was life with an unamiable hornet.
His flush deepened. "I daarss'nt," he whispered hoarsely. "Poor laad, 'e 's freetened o' t' body," she explained. "Yo stay there, Wullie. I'll goa. T' body's nowt to me. I've seen too many o' they," she muttered as she went. They heard her crying excitedly overhead. "Jimmy! Yo coom to t' ma-are! Yo coom to t' ma-are!" The sounds in the room ceased instantly.
Almost it seemed as though he had never been, for he wrote not at all, simply going his serene, white-faced way through their lives for two days and two nights and dropping out of them. Marcella, telling Wullie about it, received his explanation. "It's what I tauld ye afore, lassie. We're not things or people, really. We're juist paths."
"Well, that's all life is a path for other life to walk along." "I wish you'd explain better, Wullie," she said, staring from him to the plant. "Explaining's never any use, lassie. Folks have to live things to find them out." He stood up slowly. "There's the boats comin' in, an' I must get on back to the huts.
"We shall see what happens when Owd Bob beats him for the Cup, as he certainly will. That'll be the critical moment." As things were, the little man spent all his spare moments with the Cup between his knees, burnishing it and crooning to Wullie: "I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer, And neist my heart I'll wear her, For fear my jewel tine." "There, Wullie! look at her! is she no bonnie?
When I got there, there was yer tyke makin' fu' split for Kenmuir, and Wullie comin' up the hill to me. It's God's truth, I'm tellin' ye. Tak' him hame, James Moore, and let his dinner be an ounce o' lead. 'Twill be the best day's work iver ye done." The little man must be lying lying palpably.
I haena the proof, but I know I know!" He groped his way to the mantel piece with blind eyes and swirling brain. Reaching up with fumbling hands, he took down the old blunderbuss from above the fireplace. "Wullie," he whispered, chuckling hideously, "Wullie, come on! You and I he! he!" But the Tailless Tyke was not there.
I'll help ye to crack it. I'll toss ye for the milk if there's ony. 'I'm no gaun to crack it the noo, Wullie, Macgregor said, restraining himself. 'At nicht eh? 'I'll see. By evening, however, Willie was not thinking of cocoa-nuts or, indeed, of anything in the nature of eatables.
Yon tree was buried before its seedtime, and all these years it struggled, up an' up, till it broke through into the light of the sun. Like God strugglin' at the end through a man's flesh " Marcella stared at him: Wullie often talked like this, and she only understood very vaguely what he meant.
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