“Ah, that will do,” said Gatty, and sketched away.
Unfortunately, Jamie was quickly arrested on the way to immortality by his mother, who came in, saying:
“I maun hae my bairn—he canna be aye wasting his time here.”
This sally awakened the satire that ever lies ready in piscatory bosoms.
“Wasting his time! ye're no blate. Oh, ye'll be for taking him to the college to laern pheesick—and teach maenners.”
“Ye need na begin on me,” said the woman. “I'm no match for Newhaven.”
So saying she cut short the dispute by carrying off the gristle of contention.
“Another enemy to art,” said Gatty, hurling away his pencil.
The young fishwife inquired if there were any more griefs. What she had heard had not accounted, to her reason, for her companion's depression.
“Are ye sick, laddy?” said she.