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"A' see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle that Sabbath; "the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm judgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood the best he ever got."
It's a sin to hear how they curse an' swear." "The wumman's right," said Cameron, the smith, who was courting her while he mended the kitchen range. "They're foul as an Edinburgh fishwife the new men. Go no place wi'out a Varian, two Varians, or one of my lads." "Good Lord! I'm not a kid, Ian!" "Ye're no' a mon, neither. An' ye're the owner's first," said Cameron grimly.
"It 'ill tak' ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back; but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'."
"She's a terrible feckless wife the mistress!" said the one. "Tut," said the other, "the wumman's seeck." "Weel, I canna see nae differ in her," returned the first. "A füshionless quean, a feckless carline." The poor creature thus discussed rambled a while in the grounds without a purpose. Tides in her mind ebbed and flowed, and carried her to and fro like seaweed.
I went to the kitchen, where Hopgood was sitting at the table, eating bread and cheese. He got up on seeing me, and very kindly brought me some cold bacon and a pint of ale. "I thart I shude be seeing yu, zurr," he said between his bites; "Therr's no thart to 'atin' 'bout the 'ouse to-day. The old wumman's puzzivantin' over Miss Pasiance.
I aye think there maun be something wrang wi' folk that's as pleasant as a' that owre sweet to be wholesome, like a frostit tattie! ... The maid's ca'ed Miss Mawson. She speaks even on. The wumman's a fair clatter-vengeance, an' I dinna ken the one-hauf she says. I think the puir thing's defeecient!"
"A' see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle that Sabbath; "the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm judgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood the best he ever got."
As time went on, however, he became interested in the Gospel narratives in spite of himself, and he began to experience some sort of relish for the evening reading chiefly because, as he carefully explained to Elspie, "the droning o' the old wumman's voice" sent him to sleep. Meanwhile the other invalid Duncan senior progressed as slowly as did his son.
At the third, he found a mark, and dropped the handkerchief on the stones. "Of course not," he said, and laughed. "Stupid of me, when I hadn't been in the stables." Dixon Mallaby picked it up. "Tis t'yoong wumman's," objected Bandy-legs. "Dropped un inside, stablin' t' 'osses." But the parson put the handkerchief in his pocket. "I am acquainted with Miss Bunce," he said.
"It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back; but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'."
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