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What sud my name be but Bawby Catanach? Ye're unco upsettin' sin' ye turned my leddy's flunky! Sorrow taik ye baith! My dawtit Beauty! worriet by that hell tyke o' hers!" "Gien ye gang on like that, the markis 'll hae ye drummed oot o' the toon or twa days be ower," said Malcolm. "Wull he than?" she returned with a confident sneer, showing all the teeth she had left.
"Gang awa gan oot o't: it's my hoose," said Miss Horn, in a low, hoarse voice, restrained from rising to tempest pitch only by the consciousness of what lay on the other side of the ceiling above her head. "I wad as sune lat a cat intill the deid chaumer to gang loupin' ower the corp, or may be waur, as I wad lat yersel' intill 't Bawby Catanach; an' there's till ye!"
"Ye ma' aye touch the deid, to hand ye ohn dreamed aboot them." "I wad be laith," answered Malcolm; "she wad be ower bonny a dream to miss. Are they a' like that?" he added, speaking under his breath. "Na, 'deed no!" replied Miss Horn, with mild indignation. "Wad ye expec' Bawby Cat'nach to luik like that, no?
An' in verra trowth, she was to mysel' like ane o' thae ill faured birds, I dinna min' upo' the name them, 'at hings ower an airmy; for wharever there was onybody nae weel, or onybody deid, there was Bawby Cat'nach. I hae hard o' creepin' things 'at veesits fowk 'at 's no weel an' Bawby was, an' is, ane sic like!
His Bawby had already had two children one to the rich manufacturer, the other to the strong horse-doctor. Thomas turned in silence and went away rebuked and ashamed. Next day he sent Peter a pair of old corduroy trowsers, into either leg of which he might have been buttoned like one of Paddy's twins. In the midst of this commotion of mind and speech, good Mr Cowie died.
She had folded back the sheet not from the face, but from the feet and raised the night dress of fine linen in which the love of her cousin had robed the dead for the repose of the tomb. "It wad hae been tellin' her," she muttered, "to hae spoken Bawby fair! I'm no used to be fa'en foul o' that gait. I 's be even wi' her yet, I'm thinkin' the auld speldin'! Losh! and Praise be thankit! there it's!
But what for sud I no tak' it wi' composur'? We'll hae to tak' oor ain turn er lang, as composed as we hae the skiel o', and gang oot like a lang nibbit can'le ay, an lea' jist sic a memory ahin' some o' 's, Bawby." "I kenna gien ye mean me, Miss Horn," said the woman; "but it's no that muckle o' a memory I expec' to lea' ahin' me."
But wi' that up jumps Bawby, an' comin' efter her, says to me says she, 'Eh, Miss Horn! there's terrible news: Leddy Lossie's deid; she 's been three ooks deid! 'Weel, says I, 'what's sae terrible aboot that? For ye ken I never had ony feelin's, an' I cud see naething sae awfu' aboot a body deem' i' the ord'nar' w'y o natur like.
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