“Weel that,” replied Cosmo. “But ye’ll alloo, Grizzie, times are altert sin’ the day whan the laird cud gie a ch’ice atween a wife an’ the wuddie! Mr. Hen’erson canna weel hang me gien I sud say no.”
“Say ye no, come o’ the hangin’ what like,” rejoined Grizzie.
“But, Grizzie,” said Cosmo, “I wad fain ken whaur that meal i’ the kist cam frae. There was nane intil ’t an hoor ago.”
With all her faults of temper and tongue, there was one evil word Grizzie could not speak. In the course of a not very brief life she had tried a good many times to tell a lie, but had never been able; and now, determined not to tell where the meal had come from, she naturally paused unprepared. It was but for a moment. Out came the following utterance.
“Some fowk says, sir, ’at the age o’ mirracles is ower. For mysel’ I dinna preten’ to ony opingon; but sae lang as the needcessity was the same, I wad be laith to think Providence wadna be consistent wi’ itsel’. Ye maun min’ the tale, better nor I can tell ’t ye, concernin’ yon meal-girnel—muckle sic like, I daursay, as oor ain, though it be ca’d a barrel i’ the Buik—hit ’at never wastit, ye ken, an’ the uily-pig an’ a’—ye’ll min’ weel—though what ony wuman in her senses cud want wi’ sic a sicht o’ ile’s mair nor I ever cud faddom! Eh, but a happy wuman was she ’at had but to tak her bowl an’ gang to the girnel, as I micht tak my pail an’ gang to the wall! An’ what for michtna the Almichty mak a meal-wall as weel ’s a watter-wall, I wad like to ken! What for no a wall ’at sud rin ile—or say milk, which wad be mair to the purpose? Ae thing maun be jist as easy to him as anither—jist as ae thing’s as hard to us as anither! Eh, but we’re helpless craturs!”
“I’ your w’y, Grizzie, ye wad keep us as helpless as ever, for ye wad hae a’ thing hauden to oor han’, like to the bairnie in his mither’s lap! It’s o’ the mercy o’ the Lord ’at he wad mak men an’ women o’ ’s—no haud ’s bairns for ever!”
“It may be as ye say, Cosmo; but whiles I cud maist wuss I was a bairn again, an’ had to luik to my mither for a’ thing.”
“An’ isna that siclike as the Lord wad hae o’ ’s, Grizzie? We canna aye be bairns to oor mithers—an’ for me I wasna ane lang—but we can an’ maun aye be bairns to the great Father o’ ’s.”
“I hae an ill hert, I doobt, Cosmo, for I’m unco hard to content. An’ I’m ower auld noo, I fear, to mak muckle better o’. But maybe some kin’ly body like yersel’ ’ill tak me in han’ whan I’m deid, an’ put some sense intil me!”
“Ye hae sense eneuch, Grizzie, an’ to spare, gien only ye wad—”