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Updated: June 7, 2025
"It matters nothing to me," said Mr Stuart sternly, "whether she be a boy or a girl, I mean to send her to the workhouse." "Workhouse, brother!" exclaimed Miss Peppy in surprise. "Workhouse, sir!" echoed Mrs Niven in horror. "Father!" said Kenneth, remonstratively. "Mrs Niven," said Mr Stuart, breaking the seal of the letter very slowly, "you may leave the room.
"No, not so much that, as the fact that she told Niven last night that her name is Emmie." "That's not Emma," said Gildart. "It is what I used to call my sister, however; and besides that there is a seaman named Stephen Gaff, who, I find, has turned up somewhat suddenly and unaccountably last night from Australia.
'There's Macnab and Niven, two o' my colleagues. And there's Gilkison of the Boiler-fitters, and a lad Wilkie he's got consumption, and writes wee bits in the papers. And there's a queer chap o' the name o' Tombs they tell me he comes frae Cambridge, and is a kind of a professor there anyway he's more stuffed wi' havers than an egg wi' meat.
The only personage of our tale who now remains to be mentioned is Mrs Niven. That steady-going female continued her vocation of ministering to the wants of young students, some of whom treated her well, while others to their shame, be it said took advantage of her amiability.
"Beg parding, ma'am," said Mrs Niven, "but, if I may remark so, you 'ave not mentioned your reasons as yet." "Whose mother, ma'am? the Colonel's or his daughter's?" "His daughter's, of course Bella, she is called. Miss Peppy paused abruptly here, and Mrs Niven, supposing that she awaited a reply, said "Nothing whatever, ma'am." "Exactly so, Niven, that's just what I think.
"Make a parcel of the key, Niven," said Kenneth, coming to the rescue, "and send it by the guard of next train." "And oh!" shrieked Miss Peppy, as the train began to move, "I forgot the the " "Yes, yes, quick, ma'am," cried Niven eagerly, as she followed. "Oh! can't they stop the train for a moment? It's the it's dear me the pie pie!" "What pie, ma'am?"
"Gentleman indeed!" cried the irate Peggy, who had the intruder by the throat, "he's only a dirty auld blagyird." "Niver ye mind, Peggy," returned Mrs Niven peremptorily; "I ken him. Let him up." Immediately after, there walked into the parlour a bowed, mean-looking, dirty little old man, who, as he sat down on a chair, paid some doubtful compliments to Peggy.
Even in his contests with John Niven there was the same eagerness to excel. When he could not beat him in wrestling or putting the stone, he was fain to content himself with a display of his superiority in mental calisthenics. The very fact that a charming fillette overset his trigonometry, and set him off at a tangent, is a characteristic ending to this summer of study.
"I've mislaid the dear boy's letter, but I'll go and see Mrs Niven. He mentioned it, I know, to her." There was yet another house in Scotland into which the message carried profound grief; namely, that of Bailie Trench.
"Dear George, how can you," said Miss Peppy, who talked with great volubility, and who never for a moment ceased to bustle about the room in a series of indescribable, as well as unaccountable, not to say unnecessary, preparations for the morning meal, which had already been prepared to perfection by Mrs Niven; "you surely don't forget things do happen so surprisingly at times really, you know, I can not see why we should be subjected to such surprises.
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