'Na, na. You hae dune eneuch already, an' mony thanks. Siller's no sae easy come by to be wastit, as lang's a darn 'll do. Forbye, gin ye began wi' his claes, ye wadna ken whaur to haud; for it wad jist be the new claith upo' the auld garment: ye micht as weel new cleed him at ance.'
'And why not if I choose, Mr. Falconer?'
'Speir ye that at him, an' see what ye'll get—a luik 'at wad fess a corbie (carrion crow) frae the lift (sky). I wadna hae ye try that. Some fowk's poverty maun be han'let jist like a sair place, doctor. He canna weel compleen o' a bit darnin'.—He canna tak that ill,' repeated Robert, in a tone that showed he yet felt some anxiety on the subject; 'but new anes! I wadna like to be by whan he fand that oot. Maybe he micht tak them frae a wuman; but frae a man body!—na, na; I maun jist darn awa'. But I'll mak them dacent eneuch afore I hae dune wi' them. A fiddler has fingers.'
The doctor smiled a pleased smile; but when he got into his carriage, again he laughed heartily.
The evening deepened into night. Robert thought Ericson was asleep. But he spoke.
'Who is that at the street door?' he said.
They were at the top of the house, and there was no window to the street. But Ericson's senses were preternaturally acute, as is often the case in such illnesses.
'I dinna hear onybody,' answered Robert.
'There was somebody,' returned Ericson.
From that moment he began to be restless, and was more feverish than usual throughout the night.