“A skate!” repeated the landlord with offended sneer, and turned towards the house.
“I was thinkin’ to put up wi’ ye the nicht, gien ye could accommodate me at a rizzonable rate,” said Donal.
“I dinna ken,” replied Glumm, hesitating, with his back to him, between unwillingness to lose a penny, and resentment at the supposed badinage, which was indeed nothing but humour; “what wad ye ca’ rizzonable?”
“I wadna grudge a saxpence for my bed; a shillin’ I wad,” answered Donal.
“Weel, ninepence than—for ye seemna owercome wi’ siller.”
“Na,” answered Donal, “I’m no that. Whatever my burden, yon’s no hit. The loss o’ what I hae wad hardly mak me lichter for my race.”
“Ye’re a queer customer!” said the man.
“I’m no sae queer but I hae a kist comin’ by the carrier,” rejoined Donal, “direckit to the Morven Airms. It’ll be here in time doobtless.”
“We’ll see whan it comes,” remarked the landlord, implying the chest was easier invented than believed in.
“The warst o’ ’t is,” continued Donal, “I canna weel shaw mysel’ wantin’ shune. I hae a pair i’ my kist, an’ anither upo’ my back,—but nane for my feet.”