In the mean time things went well at Castle Warlock, with—shall I say?—one exception: Grizzie had a severe fit of repentance, mourning bitterly that she had sent away the youth she worshipped with only eighteen pence in his pocket.
“He’s sure to come to grief for the want o’ jist that ae shillin’ mair!” she said over and over to herself; “an’ it’ll be a’ an’ only my wite! What gien we never see ’im again! Eh, sirs! it’s a terrible thing to be made sae contrairy! What’ll come o’ me in the neist warl’, it wad be hard for onybody to say!”
On the evening of the second day, however, while she was “washing up” in the gloomiest frame of mind, in walked Cosmo, and a gentleman after him.
“Hoo’s my father, Grizzie?” asked Cosmo.
“Won’erfu’ weel, sir,” answered Grizzie, with a little more show of respect than usual.
“This is Grizzie, Mr. Burns,” said Cosmo. “I have told you about Grizzie that takes care of us all!”
“How do you do, Grizzie?” said Mr. Burns, and shook hands with her. “I am glad to make your acquaintance.”
“Here, Grizzie!” said Cosmo; “here’s the auchteen pence ye gae me for expences: say ye’re pleased I haena waured it.—Jist a word wi’ ye, Grizzie!—Luik here—only dinna tell!”
He had drawn her aside to the corner where stood the meal-chest, and now showed her a bunch of banknotes. So many she had never seen—not to say in a bunch, but scattered over all her life! He took from the bunch ten pounds and gave her.
“Mr. Burns,” he said aloud, “will be staying over to-morrow, I hope.”