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Updated: April 30, 2025
But gin I was you, Curly, I wad tak Lucky a seck o' spales the morn." "I'll tak them the nicht, Alec. Father, hae ye an auld seck ony gait?" "There's ane up i' the laft. What want ye wi' a seck?" But Curly was in the loft almost before the question had left his father's lips. He was down again in a moment, and on his knees filling the sack with shavings and all the chips he could find.
"But," Alec went on, "come wi' me, and we'll sune get ye warm again. Gie's yer han'." Annie gave Alec her hand; and he lifted her out of her heap of spales, and led her away. She never thought of asking where he was leading her.
"There," said he, "that's her name. Hoo de ye like it, Annie?" Annie was too much pleased to reply. She looked at it for a while with a flush on her face: and then turning away, sought her usual seat on the heap of spales.
The floor was covered with shavings, or spales, as they are called by northern consent, which a poor woman was busy gathering into a sack.
All she could do was to watch their wants, to have the tool they needed next ready to their hand, to clear away the spales from before the busy plane, and to lie in wait for any chance of putting to her little strength to help. Perhaps they were not of the elect! She would minister to them therefore oh, how much the more tenderly!
But George, who came up behind her as she stood, and perceived her interest in the operations of the boys, took her by the hand, and led her in, saying kindly: "Here's a new apprentice, Alec. She wants to learn boat-biggin." "Ou! Annie, is that you, lassie? Come awa'," said Alec. "There's a fine heap o' spales ye can sit upo', and see what we're aboot."
"I wad hae likit hay better," he said, pointing to this lair rather than couch, "but it's some ill to get, an' the spales they 're at han', an' they smell unco clean." At the opposite side of the room lay a corresponding heap, differing not a little, however, in appearance and suggestion.
But the moment Thomas went, Alec, had taken Annie to the forge to get her well-dried, before he would allow her to occupy her old place in the heap of spales. "Wha's preachin' at the missionar-kirk the morn, Willie?" asked the boy's father, For Willie knew everything that took place in Glamerton. "Mr Broon," answered Curly. "He's a guid man that, ony gait," returned his father.
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