“I want you to tell me all you know about James Renfew and his parents.”
“It’s Jeames Renfew ye want to speer about, and it’s my ain sel’ wha’ can tell you about him and his kith, and there’s na ither in this place that can.”
The interrogator felt that the best method of getting at the matter was to leave the old crone to her own discretion, and without further questioning placed another small piece of silver in her lap.
“What countryman may ye be?”
“A Scotchman.”
“I kenned as much by the burr on your tongue; ay then, ye’ll mind when the battle o’ Bannockburn was.”
“The battle of Bannockburn was fought on the twenty-fifth day of June.”
“True for ye. It was sixteen years ago Bannockburn day that this boy’s mother was brought here sick, and this Jeames wi’ her a bairn about three years old. A good woman she was too. I’m not a good woman, naebody ca’s me a good woman, I dinna ca’ myself a good woman, but for all that I know a good person when I see one.
“She had death in her face when she was brought in, would have been glad to die, but her heart was breaking about the child to be left to the tender mercies o’ the work’us.
“When she had been here little better than a week, a minister came to see her; a young, a douce man. Oh, he was a heavenly man! She was so rejoiced to see him, she kissed his hands and bathed them wi’ her hot tears. She thanked him, and cried for joy. I could nae keep from greeting my ain sel’.”