Page:Martha Spreull by Zachary Fleming.pdf/57

Rh ither—a tousie, big-baned halflin’—couldna gie me the correct answer to “ Man's Chief En”

Some folk may think the wye wis geyan plain efter this, but to me it wis a time o’ great perplexity; hooever, I did my duty. “ Doctor,” quoth I, while the callants waited i’ the side-room, “ ye ’ll maybe think me a thrawn wumman, but I’ve made up my mind.”

“ Weel,” says he, “ ye ’ll be gey an’ thrawn if ye dinna tak’ the ane that answert best; hooever, ye’re welcome to yer ain choice.”

“Thank ye for yer courtesy,” says I, “noo, just gie that five-pound note to the bonnie laddie wi’ the blue een; there’s no’ muckle likely to gae wrang wi’ him. He is sure to mak’ his wye, and it’s clear to me he is weel cared for at hame. The ither ane is a clever billie; but he needs lookin’ till, so if ye have nae objection we ’ll gie the bursary to him.”

And thus the thing wis settled; hooever, I had my wark cut oot for me; but ye ’ll hear mair aboot that again.