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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Ou, I was thinkin' ye wid be gaen the length o' T'nowhead the nicht, an' I saw Sanders Elshioner makkin's wy there an oor syne." "Did ye?" cried Sam'l, adding craftily, "but it's naething to me." "Tod, lad," said Henders, "gin ye dinna buckle to, Sanders'll be carryin' her off." Sam'l flung back his head and passed on. "Sam'l!" cried Henders after him. "Ay," said Sam'l, wheeling round.
Though Sam'l did not set up for a wit, however, like Davit, it was notorious that he could say a cutting thing once in a way. "Did ye ever see Bell reddin up?" asked Pete, recovering from his overthrow. He was a man who bore no malice. "It's a sicht," said Sam'l, solemnly. "Hoo will that be?" asked Jamie Deuchars. "It's weel worth yer while," said Pete, "to ging atower to the T'nowhead an' see.
"It's him," she said, and then, with swelling throat, she ran back to Jess. The door of the workshop was wide open, held against the wall by the wind. T'nowhead and the others went in. The cruizey stood on the little window. Hendry's back was to the door, and he was leaning forward on the silent loom.
Nevertheless he was a little excited, for he went off without saying good-night. No one spoke. Bell's face was crimson. T'nowhead fidgetted on his chair, and Lisbeth looked at Sam'l. The weaver was strangely calm and collected, though he would have liked to know whether this was a proposal. "Sit in by to the table, Sam'l," said Lisbeth, trying to look as if things were as they had been before.
Sam'l looked about him, and then, seeing that the others had gone, walked round the town-house into the darkness of the brae that leads down and then up to the farm of T'nowhead. To get into the good graces of Lisbeth Fargus you had to know her ways and humor them.
T'nowhead himself had never got used to his wife's refined notions, and when any one knocked he always started to his feet, thinking there must be something wrong. Lisbeth came to the door, her expansive figure blocking the way in. "Sam'l," she said. "Lisbeth," said Sam'l.
Pete was passing round a card, and in time it reached me. "With Mr. and Mrs. David Alexander's compliments," was printed on it, and Pete leered triumphantly at us as it went the round. "Weel, what think ye?" he asked, with a pretence at modesty. "Ou," said T'nowhead, looking at the others like one who asked a question, "ou, I think; ay, ay."
The potatoes were burning, and T'nowhead had an invitation on his tongue. "Yes, I'll hae to be movin'," said Sanders, hopelessly, for the fifth time. "Guid nicht to ye, then, Sanders," said Lisbeth. "Gie the door a fling-to, ahent ye." Sanders, with a mighty effort, pulled himself together. He looked boldly at Bell, and then took off his hat carefully.
He shook hands with the farmer's wife, knowing that she liked it, but only said, "Ay, Bell," to his sweetheart, "Ay, T'nowhead," to McQuhatty, and "It's yersel', Sanders," to his rival. They were all sitting round the fire; T'nowhead, with his feet on the ribs, wondering why he felt so warm; and Bell darned a stocking, while Lisbeth kept an eye on a goblet full of potatoes.
Johnny McQuhatty, a brother of the T'nowhead farmer, was the one taciturn member of the club, and you had only to look at him to know that he had a secret. He was a great genius at the hand-loom, and invented a loom for the weaving of linen such as has not been seen before or since.
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