'Rin, laddie, rin,' she said, 'an' fess him back direckly! Betty! Betty! gang wi' Robert and help him to luik for Shargar. Ye auld, blin', doited body, 'at says ye can see, and canna tell a lad frae a lass!'
'Na, na, grannie. I'm no gaein' oot wi' a dame like her trailin' at my fut. She wad be a sair hinnerance to me. Gin Shargar be to be gotten—that is, gin he be in life—I s' get him wantin' Betty. And gin ye dinna ken him for the crater ye fand i' the garret, he maun be sair changed sin' I left him there.'
'Weel, weel, Robert, gang yer wa's. But gin ye be deceivin' me, may the Lord—forgie ye, Robert, for sair ye'll need it.'
'Nae fear o' that, grannie,' returned Robert, from the street door, and vanished.
Mrs. Falconer stalked—No, I will not use that word of the gait of a woman like my friend's grandmother. 'Stately stept she butt the hoose' to Betty. She felt strangely soft at the heart, Robert not being yet proved a reprobate; but she was not therefore prepared to drop one atom of the dignity of her relation to her servant.
'Betty,' she said, 'ye hae made a mistak.'
'What's that, mem?' returned Betty.
'It wasna a lass ava; it was that crater Shargar.'
'Ye said it was a lass yersel' first, mem.'
'Ye ken weel eneuch that I'm short sichtit, an' hae been frae the day o' my birth.'