“What's that!” yelled Long Kirby, leaping to his feet.
“Mon, say it agin!” shouted Rob.
“What's owd addled eggs tellin'?” cried Liz Burton.
“Dang his 'ead for him!” shouts Tupper.
“Fill his eye!” says Ned Hoppin.
They jostled round the old man's chair: M'Adam in front; Jem Burton and Long Kirby leaning over his shoulder; Liz behind her father; Saunderson and Tupper tackling him on either side; while the rest peered and elbowed in the rear.
The announcement had fallen like a thunderbolt among them.
Tammas looked slowly up at the little mob of eager faces above him. Pride at the sensation caused by his news struggled in his countenance with genuine sorrow for the matter of it.
“Ay, yo' may well 'earken all on yo'. Tis enough to mak' the deadies listen. I says agin: We's'll no rin oor Bob fot' Cup. And yo' may guess why. Bain't every mon, Mr. M'Adam, as'd pit aside his chanst o' the Cup, and that 'maist a gift for him”—M'Adam's tongue was in his cheek—“and it a certainty,” the old man continued warmly, “oot o' respect for his wife's memory.”
The news was received in utter silence. The shock of the surprise, coupled with the bitterness of the disappointment, froze the slow tongues of his listeners.