“Ill’s the trowth o’ them ’at’s ill. What for no set ill names to ill duers?”
“Cause a christian ’s b’un’ to destroy the warks o’ the evil ane; an’ ca’in’ names raises mair o’ them. The only thing ’at maks awa’ wi’ ill, is the man himsel’ turnin’ again’ ’t, an’ that he’ll never du for ill names. Ye wad never gar me repent that gait, Grizzie. Hae mercy upo’ the auld sinner, ’uman.”
The pace at which they were making up for lost time was telling upon Grizzie, and she was silent. When she spoke again it was upon another subject.
“I cud jest throttle that grieve there!” she said. “To see ’im the nicht afore last come hame to the verra yett wi’ Aggie, was enouch to anger the sanct ’at I’m no.”
Jealousy sent a pang through the heart of Cosmo. Was not Aggie one of the family—more like a sister to him than any other could ever be? The thought of her and a man like Crawford was unendurable.
“She cudna weel help hersel’,” he rejoined; “an’ whaur’s the maitter, sae lang as she has naething to say til ’im?”
“An’ wha kens hoo lang that may be?” returned Grizzie. “The hert o’ a wuman’s no deceitfu’ as the Buik says o’ a man’s, an’ sae ’s a heap the easier deceivt. The chield’s no ill-luikin’! an’ I s’ warran’ he’s no sae rouch wi’ a yoong lass as wi’ an auld wife.”
“Grizzie, ye wadna mint ’at oor Aggie’s ane to be ta’en wi’ the luiks o’ a man!”
“What for no—whan it’s a’ the man has! A wuman’s hert’s that saft, whiles, ’at she’ll jist tak ’im, no to be sair upon ’im. I wadna warran’ ony lass! Gien the fallow cairry a fair face, she’ll sweir her conscience doon he maun hae a guid hert.”
Thus Grizzie turned the tables upon Cosmo, and sheltered herself behind them. Scarcely a word did he speak the rest of the morning.