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Jock was preparing for a further flight of fancy, when Mrs. M'Cosh, having finished washing the dishes, came in to say that Thomson had never sent the sausages for Mr. David's breakfast, and she could not see him depart for England unfortified by sausages and poached eggs. "I'll just slip down and get them," she announced, being by no means averse to a stroll along the lighted Highgate.
If we had to leave The Rigs and Bella Bathgate I simply don't know what we'd do." "We could easy get a hoose wi' mair conveniences" Mrs. M'Cosh reminded her. She had laid down the tray again and stood with her hands on her hips and her head on one side, deeply interested "Thae wee new villas in the Langhope Road are a fair treat, wi' a pantry aff the dining-room an' hot and cold everywhere."
He went just after you did. He was in London at Christmas at least, that was the postmark on the parcels, but he has never written a word. He was always a bad correspondent, but he'll turn up one of these days." Mrs. M'Cosh came in with the letters from the evening post. "Actually a letter for me," said Jean, "from London. I expect it's from that landlord of ours.
Think on something wise-like, like a guid laddie." Mhor considered. "If you give me a sheet of paper and an envelope I might write to the Lion at the Zoo." For the sake of peace Mrs. M'Cosh produced the materials, and Mhor sat down at the table, his elbows spread out, his tongue protruding.
"It's nothing," said David, walking away from the emotion in his sister's face. "With the rest of the money I got presents for the boys and Mrs. M'Cosh and Peter, but they'd better be kept out of sight till Christmas Day." Truth to tell, he had meant to keep the brooch also out of sight till Christmas, but the temptation to see Jean's pleasure had been too strong.
Peter looked wistfully up at him and hunched himself against the scratched bare knees now blue with cold. "When the sun touches the top of West Law," said Jean, pointing to a distant blue peak, "it has set. See there.... Now run in, sonny, and tell Mrs. M'Cosh to let you have some currant-loaf for tea. Pamela and I are going to tea at Hopetoun." "Aw," said Mhor, "I hate when you go out to tea.
They would have said with Touchstone, "It is meat and drink to me to see a clown." Jean watched with delight her rather difficult guest blossom into affability. "You are looking better already," she told him. "If you stayed here for a week and rested and Mrs. M'Cosh cooked you light, nourishing food and Mhor didn't make too much noise, I'm sure you would feel quite well again.
English Church or no English Church he'll help to marry Jean. But," turning to the bride to be, "I can hardly believe it, Jean. It's only ten days since you left Priorsford, and to-morrow you're to be married. I think it was the War that taught us such hurried ways...." She sighed, and then went on briskly: "I went to see Mrs. M'Cosh before I left.
The Elliots were an old and honoured family, and the present laird, though shy and retiring, was much liked by his tenants, and respected by everyone. Pamela had made herself very popular in Priorsford, and people were pleased that she should remain as lady of Laverlaw. "Ay," said Mrs. M'Cosh, "he's waited lang, but he's waled weel in the end.
It's juist as weel, seein' the biler's gone wrang. I suppose I'd better gie the laddie a piece?" "Yes, and a penny." Then Jean remembered her new possessions. "No, give him this, please, Mrs. M'Cosh." Mrs. M'Cosh received the coin and gasped. "Hauf a croon!" she said. "Silver," said Pamela, "is to be no more accounted of than it was in the days of Solomon!"
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