'Wha was't?'
'A lady. You don't know her. Have you never heard anything about her at all, then?'
'No' a cheep. She's in London, they say—the folk that pretend to ken a'thing. I'm sure I'm no' carin'.'
'And my father's really working this week? Oh, mother, if only he would keep steady, it would make all the difference. You look better yourself, too. Are you not far better without drink?'
'Maybe. We've made a paction, onyway, for a week, till we see,' said Mrs. Hepburn, with a slow smile. 'The way o't was this. We fell oot wan day, an' he cuist up to me that I couldna keep frae't, an' I jist says, says I, "Ye canna keep frae't yersel'," an' it's for spite we're no' touchin't. I dinna think mysel' he'll staun' oot past Seterday.'
Walter could not forbear a melancholy smile.
'It's not a very high motive, but better spite than no motive at all,' he answered. 'D'ye think, mother, that Liz can be in Glasgow?'
'Hoo should I ken? There's yer faither's fit on the stair, an' the tatties no' ready, but they'll be saft in a jiffy. He canna wait a meenit for his meat. As I say, he thinks it should be walkin' doon the stair to meet him. Ay, my man, it's you I'm on.'
She made a great clatter with knives and spoons on the table, and then made a rush to pour the water off the potatoes.
'Hulloa, Wat, what's up?' inquired the old man, as genuinely surprised as his wife had been to see his son.