“I reck'n the Cup is kind o' company to him,” said Jim Mason. “Happen it's lonesomeness as drives him here so much.” And happen you were right, charitable Jim.
“Best mak' maist on it while he has it, 'cos he'll not have it for long,” Tammas remarked amid applause.
Even Parson Leggy allowed—rather reluctantly, indeed, for he was but human—that the little man was changed wonderfully for the better.
“But I am afraid it may not last,” he said. “We shall see what happens when Owd Bob beats him for the Cup, as he certainly will. That'll be the critical moment.”
As things were, the little man spent all his spare moments with the Cup between his knees, burnishing it and crooning to Wullie:
“I never saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.”
“There, Wullie! look at her! is she no bonnie? She shines like a twinkle—twinkle in the sky.” And he would hold it out at arm's length, his head cocked sideways the better to scan its bright beauties.
The little man was very jealous for his treasure. David might not touch it; might not smoke in the kitchen lest the fumes should tarnish its glory; while if he approached too closely he was ordered abruptly away.
“As if I wanted to touch his nasty Cup!” he complained to Maggie. “I'd sooner ony day—”
“Hands aff, Mr. David, immediate!” she cried indignantly. “'Pertinence, indeed!” as she tossed her head clear of the big fingers that were fondling her pretty hair.