"Weel! hm! hm!—He said it was fine frosty weather."
"Ay, nae doobt! He kent that by the way the shuttle flew. Was that a'?"
"Na, nae freely. But cogues hae lugs, and bairns hae muckle een."
For Isie sat on her stool staring at her father and mother alternately, and watching for the result of her mother's attempt at picking the lock of her father's reticence. But the moment she heard the word lugs, she knew that she had no chance, and her eyes grew less and their pupils grew larger. Fearing he had hurt her, Andrew said,
"Winna ye hae a starnie jam, Isie? It's grosert-jam."
"Na, thank ye, daddie. Maybe it wad gie me a sair wame," answered the solemn old-faced Scotchwoman of seven.
A child who refuses jam lest it should serve her as the little book did the Apostle John, might be considered prudent enough to be intrusted with a secret. But not a word more was said on the subject, till Isie was in bed, and supposed to be fast asleep, in a little room that opened off the parlour. But she was not asleep. And the door was always left open, that she might fall asleep in the presence of her parents. Their words therefore flowed freely into her ears, although the meaning only played on her mind with a dull glimmer like that which played on her wall from the fire in the room where they sat talking.
"Ay, woman," began Andrew, "it'll be sair news, this, to the lady ower the watter."
"Ye dinna mean Mistress Forbes, Anerew?"
"'Deed I mean jist her."