'Whaur got ye the shillin'?'
'Mr. Lammie gae 't to Robert.'
'I winna hae ye tak siller frae naebody. It's ill mainners. Hae!' said the old lady, putting her hand in her pocket, and taking out a shilling. 'Hae,' she said. 'Gie Mr. Lammie back his shillin', an' tell 'im 'at I wadna hae ye learn sic ill customs as tak siller. It's eneuch to gang sornin' upon 'im (exacting free quarters) as ye du, ohn beggit for siller. Are they a' weel?'
'Ay, brawly,' answered Shargar, putting the shilling in his pocket.
In another moment Shargar had, without a word of adieu, embezzled the shoes, and escaped from the house without seeing Betty. He went straight to the shop he had just left, and bought another shilling's worth of string.
When he got home, he concealed nothing from Robert, whom he found seated in the barn, with his fiddle, waiting his return.
Robert started to his feet. He could appropriate his grandfather's violin, to which, possibly, he might have shown as good a right as his grandmother—certainly his grandfather would have accorded it him—but her money was sacred.
'Shargar, ye vratch!' he cried, 'fess that shillin' here direckly. Tak the twine wi' ye, and gar them gie ye back the shillin'.'
'They winna brak the bargain,' cried Shargar, beginning almost to whimper, for a savoury smell of dinner was coming across the yard.
'Tell them it's stown siller, and they'll be in het watter aboot it gin they dinna gie ye 't back.'