"Oh yes," said Gibson complacently. "I'm quite proud o' the description."
"I've my ain craw to pick wi' Gourlay," he went on. "He was damned ill-bred yestreen when I asked him to settle my account, and talked about extortion. But bide a wee, bide a wee! I'll enjoy the look on his face when he sees himself forced to carry for you, at a rate lower than the market price."
When Gibson approached Gourlay on the following day he was full of laments about the poor state of trade.
"Ay," said he, "the grand railway they boasted o' hasna done muckle for the town!"
"Atwell ay," quoth Gourlay with pompous wisdom; "they'll maybe find, or a's by, that the auld way wasna the warst way. There was to be a great boom, as they ca't, but I see few signs o't."
"I see few signs o't either," said Gibson, "it's the slackest time for the last twa years."
Gourlay grunted his assent.
"But I've a grand job for ye, for a' that," said Gibson, slapping his hands. "What do ye say to the feck of a year's carting tweesht the quarry and the town foot?"
"I might consider that," said Gourlay, "if the terms were good."