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"Attention!" shouted Dauvid till his class; an' Bandy Wobster wha was busy glowerin' at the drunkard's liver, an' windrin' what like his ain was, nae doot strak in, without kennin', wi' "Shoulder arms!" an' the laddies roared an' leuch till you wud actually thocht they wudda wranged themsel's.
"This is shurely the end o' the world comin'," said Mistress Kenawee, near greetin'. "O dear me, I think something's genna come ower me." "Tuts 'oman, sit doon," says Dauvid, altho' he was in a fell state aboot her. I cud see that brawly. The sicht o' the puir wafilly budy akinda drave the fear awa frae me; an' I maskit a cup o' tea, an' crackit awa till her till we got her cowshined doon.
And therewith, by the side of the dead, he imparted to his wife the thoughts that drove misery from his heart as he sat on his mare in the storm with the reins on her neck, nor knew whither she went. 'Ay, ay, returned his wife after a pause, 'ye're unco richt, Dauvid, as aye ye are!
'But what'll we du aboot it or we gang? It's the storm may come on again waur nor ever, and mak it impossible to beery her for a month! 'We cudna carry her hame atween's, Dauvid think ye? 'Na, na; it's no as gien it was hersel! And cauld's a fine keeper better nor a' the embalmin o' the Egyptians! Only I'm fain to hand Steenie ohn seen her again!
Again followed a brief silence. 'Eh, but isna it strange? said Marion. 'Here's you and me stanin murnin ower anither man's bairn, and naewise kennin what's come o' oor ain twa! Dauvid, what can hae come o' Steenie and Kirsty? 'The wull o' God's what's come o' them; and God hand me i' the grace o' wussin naething ither nor that same!
"Juist you keep your moo steekit, Pottie," says Dauvid, "or I'll mibby be middlin' wi' you. You're a miserable pack o' vagues, a' the lot o' ye, to gae wa' an' tak' advantage o' an' auld man! Yah! Damish your skins, I cud thrash the whole pack o' ye." He up wi' his niv an' took a hawp forrit.
I think he had gotten haud o' a shelf abune his heid, an' giein' himsel' a poo up; for there was a most terriple reeshel o' broken bottles, an' beef tins, an' roarin' an' swearin', you never heard the like. "What i' the face o' the earth was ye doin' blawin' oot the can'le, Sandy?" said Dauvid Kenawee.
The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' here was Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o' rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as a cloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckie that smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger. What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond.
Marion was the first to speak. 'Eh Dauvid! God be praised I hae yersel! 'Is the puir thing gane? asked her husband in an awe-hushed tone, looking down on the maid that was not dead but sleeping. 'I doobt there's no doobt aboot that, answered Marion. 'Steenie, I was jist thinkin, wud be sair disapp'intit to learn 'at there was. Eh, the faith o' that laddie!
My heart bleeds when I go roond the shore an' see all the ships sailin' oot o' the herbir, an' no' a livin' sowl comin' in. Gentlemen, that herbir's growin' a gijantic white elephant." "An' so's the Watter Toor, an' the Lifeboat too," roared Dauvid Kenawee. "The toon's foo o' white elephants, a' colours," said Moses Certricht. "The Toon Cooncil's made it juist like a wild beast show."
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