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The needle stuck and stopped twenty times a minute. Robbie was delirious. "Robbie, Robbie, do you know who has come to see you?" said Liza, bending over him. "Ey, mother, ey, here I am, home at last," muttered Robbie. "He's ram'lin' agen," said Mattha from the chimney corner. "Bless your old heart, mammy, but I'll mend my management. I will, that I will. It's true this time, mammy, ey, it is.
"He nivver were an artistic drunkard, weren't Bobbie." "He's been ram'lin' and ram'lin' all the way home," continued Reuben. "He's telt ower and ower agen of summat 'at were fifty yards north of the bridge." "We must take him home," said Liza, who came hurrying from the house with a blanket over her arm. "Here, cover him with this, Rotha can spare it."
It cannot be 'at the man were no, no I'm ram'lin' mysel sure-ly." "Ralph; it was Ralph!" said Rotha, trembling visibly. "Be quick. Good night!" "Ralph at Carlisle!" said Mattha. "Weel, weel; after word comes weird. That's why the constables are gone, and that's why Robbie's come. Weel, weel! Up with thee, Reuben, and let us try the legs of this auld dobbin of thine."
"Weel, weel," said Mattha, "they do say as theer's no fools like auld fools. Why, the lad's ram'lin'. Canst hear? ram'lin'. Wadst hev us keck him intil the dike to die like ony dog?" "Take him away, take him away," cried 'Becca, retiring inwards, her importunity becoming every moment louder and more vehement.
"Why, the lad's ram'lin'," said Reuben to himself. "It was fifty strides north of the bridge," Robbie whispered again; and then lifting his voice he cried, "She's gone; she's gone." "He's ram'lin' for sure." The truth now dawned on Reuben that on the present occasion at least Robbie was not drunk, but sick.
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