“Grizzie, wuman, what are ye aboot! Bless ye, Grizzie, I wad ’maist as sune strive wi’ my ain mither whaur she shines i’ glory, as wi’ you!”
Grizzie’s face began to work like that of a child in an agony between pride and tears, just ere he breaks into a howl. She gripped his arm hard with both hands, and at length faltered out, gathering composure as she proceeded,
“Cosmo, ye’re like an angel o’ God to a’ ’at hae to du wi’ ye! Eh, sic an accoont o’ ye as I’ll hae to gie to the mither o’ ye whan I win to see her! For surely they’ll lat me see her, though they may weel no think me guid eneuch to bide wi’ her up there, for as lang as we was thegither doon here! Tell me, sir, what wad ye hae me du. But jist ae thing I maun say:—gien I hadna dune as I did du, I do not see hoo we cud hae won throu’ the winter.”
“Grizzie,” said Cosmo, “I ken ye did a’ for the best, an’ maybe it was the best. The day may come, Grizzie, whan we’ll gang thegither to ca’ upo’ them ’at pat the meal i’ yer pock, an’ return them thanks for their kin’ness.”
“Eh, na, sir! That wad never du! What for sud they ken onything aboot it! They war jist kin’-like at lairge, an’ to naebody in partic’lar, like the man wi’ his sweirin’. They gae to me jist as they wad to ony unco beggar wife. It was to me they gae ’t, no to you. Lat it a’ lie upo’ me.”
“That canna be, Grizzie,” said Cosmo. “Ye see ye’re ane o’ the faimily, an’ whatever ye du, I maun haud my face til.”
“God bless ye, sir!” exclaimed Grizzie, and turned towards the house, entirely relieved and satisfied.
“But eh, sir!” she cried, turning again, “ye haena broken yer fast the day!”
“I’ll be back in a feow minutes, an’ mak a brakfast o’ ’t by or’nar’,” answered Cosmo, and hastened away up the hill.