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Jeames was poor, for there was not much trade in his line, and so was never able to have much of a stock; but he was an excellent watchmaker none better in the great city so at least his town-folk believed, and in a village it soon appears whether a watchmaker has got it in him. He was a thin, pale man, with a mixed look of rabbit and ferret, a high narrow forehead, and keen gray eyes.
Jeames, with folded legs, leaning against the door-pillar of his master's abode, looked forth musingly upon the latter tranquil sight: whilst a spectator clinging to the railings examined the former scene.
And what's the use o' knees, but to gang doon upo'? Gang hame, and gang doon upo' yer ain, Jeames; and dinna disturb ither fowk that ken what theirs was made for." Thus admonished, the weaver dared not linger. As he turned to shut the door, he wished the mason good night, but received no answer. Thomas had sunk forward upon the chair, and had already drawn his plaid over his head.
At last, "Will ye hae's, Bell?" would have dropped from his half-reluctant lips; and Bell would have mumbled, "Ay," with her thumb in her mouth. "Guid nicht to ye, Bell," would be the next remark "Guid nicht to ye, Jeames," the answer; the humble door would close softly, and Bell and her lad would have been engaged.
'Why, said he, 'you see it hurts his pride and, beside, some one must cook. Jeames cooks." Cary laughed. "I left him getting up his load and hurrying off to roll call. Phoebus Apollo swincking for Mars! I was at Greenwood the other day. They all sent you their love." A colour came into Cleave's dark cheek. "Thank them for me when you write. Only the ladies are there?" "Yes.
How oddly it must strike the Spaniards in England to notice the stolid indifference of "Jeames de la Plush," and the curt tap of his first finger on the brim of his hat as his lady enters her carriage or gives her directions!
"Jeames never appeart to me to hae mair o' what's ca'd intellec' nor an ord'nar' share; but ye see the man 'at has faith he's aye growin', an' sae may come to something even i' this warl'.An' whan ye think o' the ages to come, truly it wad seem to maitter little what intellec' a man may start wi'. I kenned mysel' ane 'at in ord'nar' affairs was coontit little better nor an idiot,'maist turn a prophet whan he gaed doon upo' his knees.
There is mamma rapping the knuckles of Pincot the lady's-maid, and little Miss scolding Martha, who waits up five pair of stairs in the nursery. Little Miss, Tommy, papa, mamma, you all expect from Martha, from Pincot, from Jenkins, from Jeames, obsequious civility and willing service. My dear, good people, you can't have truth too.
And the runaway steeds at this instant came upon them as a whirlwind. But if those steeds ran at a whirlwind pace, Jeames was swifter.
"I jist cam' to see whether ye war in want o' onything, Thamas." "I'm in want o' naething. Gude nicht to ye." "But, railly, Thamas," expostulated the weaver, emboldened by his own kindness "ye'll excuse me, but ye hae nae business to gang doon on yer knees wi' yer leg in sic a weyk condeetion." "I winna excuse ye, Jeames. What ken ye aboot my leg?
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