“Reet, Noah,” she smiled, “there’ll be na’ change teel God wulls, and may He na’ wull it frae lang.”
“Ugh, you tell Boy,” said Noah, “tell ’um Noah say it.”
The old lady held up her hands.
“There’s na’ tellin’ him at all whatever,” she sighed. “He’s muckle disturbed and he’ll na’ listen to reason. He’s oot there noo trudgin’ the wet woods, but he’ll noo get comfort there, mon; he maun seek it i’ the guid Book. I’ve told him o’ it, aye, I’ve told him o’ it aften enoo. God forgive him for th’ wild creature he is—and he’s a guid lad at heart enoo, a guid lad at heart——”
“Tush, Granny,” chided Big McTavish. “Boy’s not worryin’ over anythin’. He’s a bit unsettled, that’s all. He’s out in the woods ’cause he loves th’ woods. See, you’ve spoiled Noah’s supper for him. He’s thinkin’ Boy’s a bit crazy, maybe.”
Noah pushed back his chair from the table and arose.
“You’re not going so soon, surely, Noah?” cried Gloss.
“Noah must go to Point,” answered the Indian. “Canoe down on Eau shore.”
Gloss snatched up her cap.
“I’ll go down to th’ shore with you,” she cried. “Maybe I’ll meet Boy.”