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Updated: June 4, 2025
Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests, Luckie Macleary had swept her house for the first time this fortnight, tempered her turf-fire to such a heat as the season required in her damp hovel even at Midsummer, set forth her deal table newly washed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf, arranged four or five stools of huge and clumsy form, upon the sites which best suited the inequalities of her clay floor; and having, moreover, put on her clean toy, rokelay, and scarlet plaid, gravely awaited the arrival of the company, in full hope of custom and profit.
But there was just one not so easily satisfied about the extent of her duties: that was little Isie Constable. The tertians gave a supper at Luckie Cumstie's, and invited the magistrands. On such an occasion Beauchamp, with his high sense of his own social qualities, would not willingly be absent. When the hour arrived, he took his place near the head of the table.
The fact was Bob never came, and no wonder. He was collared by the Dumbarton captain, and carried off to the field to practice for the great fight of the next day, under pains and penalties. He pleaded for Mary, but it was of no avail. "He had," he went on to remonstrate, "promised on his word of honour to meet her that evening and take her to Luckie M'Latchie's booking."
'Hout na, your Honour, said old Janet, 'ye were just as ill aff in the feifteen, and got the bonnie baronie back, an' a'. And now the eggs is ready, and the muir-cock's brandered, and there's ilk ane a trencher and some saut, and the heel o' the white loaf that cam frae the Bailie's, and there's plenty o' brandy in the greybeard that Luckie Maclearie sent doun, and winna ye be suppered like princes?
"I'm saying, Luckie," says he, when the goodwife returned, "have ye a back road out of this change-house?" She told him there was, and where it led to. "Then, sir," says he to me, "I think that will be the shortest road for us. And here's good-bye to ye, my braw woman; and I'll no' forget thon of the cinnamon-water." We went out by way of the woman's kale-yard, and up a lane among fields.
But aince they're too old to be seeking joes, they a' set up to be apotecaries. Why? What do I ken? They'll be just the way God made them, I suppose. But I think a man would be a gomeril that didna give his attention to the same." And here, the luckie coming back, he turned from me as if with impatience to renew their former conversation.
"Ay, ay," answered Luckie Mucklebackit, "I see you hae gotten a' your braws on; ye're looking about for Steenie now but he's no at hame the night; and ye'll no do for Steenie, lass a feckless thing like you's no fit to mainteen a man." "Steenie will no do for me," retorted Jenny, with a toss of her head that might have become a higher-born damsel; "I maun hae a man that can mainteen his wife."
"I wonder to hear the Doctor!" said the younger nurse; "there's no a wife in the town would believe it o' him." "I aye thought the Doctor was a man till this moment," said Luckie Simson; "but I believe him now to be an auld wife, little baulder than mysell; and I dinna wonder that poor Mrs. Gray" "Hold your peace, you foolish woman," said the Doctor.
But, to return to what I was saying, Luckie Howatson is very expeditious, for this lass Here the desultory and long-winded narrative of the Laird was interrupted by the voice of some one ascending the stairs from the kitchen story, and singing at full pitch of voice. The high notes were too shrill for a man, the low seemed too deep for a woman.
I began life, and that after no pleasant fashion, as near as I can guess, about the age of six years. One glorious morning in early summer I found myself led by the ungentle hand of Mrs. Mitchell towards a little school on the outside of the village, kept by an old woman called Mrs. Shand. In an English village I think she would have been called Dame Shand: we called her Luckie Shand.
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