The little man began to whimper.
“It'll brak' yer auld dad's heart, lad,” he said.
“Nay; yo've got none. But 'twill ruin yo', please God. For yo' and yer Wullie'll get ne'er a soul to work for yo'—yo' cheeseparin', dirty-tongued Jew.”
The little man burst into an agony of affected tears, rocking to and fro, his face in his hands.
“Waesucks, Wullue! d'ye hear him? He is gaein' to leave us—the son o' my bosom! my Benjamin! my little Davie! he's gaein' awa'!”
David turned away down the hill; and M'Adam lifted his stricken face and waved a hand at him.
“'Adieu, dear amiable youth!'” he cried in broken voice; and straightway set to sobbing again.
Half-way down to the Stony Bottom David turned.
“I'll gie yo' a word o' warnin',” he shouted back. “I'd advise yo' to keep a closer eye to yer Wullie's goings on, 'specially o' nights, or happen yo'll wake to a surprise one mornin'.”
In an instant the little man ceased his fooling.