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She stuffed his pockets with sweet biscuits instead, dismissed him in haste, and rang the bell. 'Meg, whaur hae they putten the stranger-leddy? 'She's no gaein' to bide at our hoose, mem. 'What say ye, lass? She's never gaein' ower to Lucky Happit's, is she? 'Ow na, mem. She's a leddy, ilka inch o' her. But I doobt there'll be maist three barrowfu's o' them. 'Atweel. Ye can gang.
'Atweel, I am a simple body, that's true, hinny, but I am no come to steal ony o' his skeel for naething, said the farmer in his honest pride, and strutted away downstairs, followed by Mannering and the cadie.
Snoove away, Peter; snoove away!" Peter shuffled uneasily, and his pale blue eyes blinked at Gourlay from beneath their grizzled crow nests of red hair. "Are we a' to start thegither, sir?" he hesitated. "D'ye mean d'ye mean the carriers too?" "Atweel, Peter!" said Gourlay. "What for no?"
"What's the matter wi' me indeed!" said Cuddie, who was again hastily putting on some of the garments he had stripped himself of; "am I no gaun up this instant to see my maister?" "Atweel, Cuddie, ye are gaun nae sic gate," said Jenny, coolly and resolutely. "The deil's in the wife!" said Cuddie. "D 'ye think I am to be John Tamson's man, and maistered by women a' the days o' my life?"
"Clashes and clavers!" cries Sam, turning on her. "Helen Raeburn, ye're just daft! Is the Lord no sae strang o' Friday as ither days? What will fules say neist?" "Atweel, ye may lauch, Sam, an' ye will," answered Helen: "but I tell ye, I ne'er brake my collar-bone of a journey but ance, and that was when I'd set forth of a Friday."
As we went down the village street, it was quite amusing to hear the greetings from every doorway. "Atweel, Miss Flora, ye've won hame!" said one. "How's a' wi' ye, my bairn?" said another. "A blessing on your bonnie e'en, my lassie!" said a third. And Flora had the same sort of thing for all of them.
And both mistress and maid laughed the moment they parted company. 'Wha's this 'at's come the nicht, Miss Naper, 'at they're sae ta'en wi'? asked Robert. 'Atweel, I dinna ken yet. It's a mercy the baron's no at hame. I wad hae to lock her up wi' the forks and spunes. 'What for that? asked Robert. But Miss Napier vouchsafed no further explanation.
"What's the matter wi' me indeed!" said Cuddie, who was again hastily putting on some of the garments he had stripped himself of; "am I no gaun up this instant to see my maister?" "Atweel, Cuddie, ye are gaun nae sic gate," said Jenny, coolly and resolutely. "The deil's in the wife!" said Cuddie. "D 'ye think I am to be John Tamson's man, and maistered by women a' the days o' my life?"
"Are ye thinking ye have missed a gude thing?" grinned the Deacon. But Brodie's lips were working in the throes of commercial speculation, and he stared, heedless of the jibe. So Johnny Coe took up his sapient parable. "Atweel," said he, "there's a chance, Mr. Brodie. That road round to the back's a handy thing. You could take a horse and cart brawly through an opening like that.
"She's always saying that she's ill. I thocht when she grew up that she might be a wee help, but she's no use at all. And I'm sure, if a' was kenned, I have more to complain o' than she has. Atweel ay," she said, and stared at the embers.
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