"McNab, I am in splendid health."
"That's a' right. Splendid health you have, and splendid health you will require, and some one to keep people out o' the house that arena wanted near it. I am not going awa', so you needna speak the word. Is your ain mother coming to you?"
"She cannot. They will have to move next month."
"Weel, then, you arena to be fretted wi' any other mother, and it will take an extraordinar' woman—like mysel'—to be all you want, and to fend off all you don't want. I am gey fond o' newborn babies—poor wee things, shipwrecked on a cold, bad world—and if there isna some sensible kind-hearted body wi' your bairn, they will be trying their auld world tricks wi' it. I shall stay here and see the bonnie wee thing isna left to their mercy."
"What do you mean? You frighten me, McNab."
"I mean, that if the bairn is left to any auld-farrant nurse, she will wash it in whiskey as soon as it comes into the world, and there is nae doubt in my mind, that the spirit isna pleasant to the tender skin o' the poor wean."
"Oh, McNab! what a dreadful custom!"
"Weel, it is an auld, auld custom, and though some are giving it up, there are mair that stick to it. If Mrs. Traquair Campbell should be here, I'm feared the whiskey bottle would be gey close to the washbowl. And you wouldna like it."
"I would not permit it."
"How would you help it? Tell me that. The only time you managed that woman you had to nearly die to do it, and I'm not clear that you got the better o' her then."