“Min’ ye pit saut eneuch in ’t the day, Grizzie,” he said. “It was unco wersh yesterday.”
“An’ what was ’t like thestreen (yestere’en ), Cosmo?” asked the old woman, irritated at being found fault with in a matter wherein she counted herself as near perfection as ever mortal could come.
“I had nane last nicht, ye min’,” answered Cosmo, “I was oot a’ the evenin’.”
“An’ whaur got ye yer supper?”
“Ow, I didna want nane. Hoot! I’m forgettin’! Aggie gied me a quarter o’ breid as I cam by, or rather as I cam awa’, efter giein’ her a han’ wi’ her algebra.”
“What ca’ ye that for a lass bairn to be takin’ up her time wi’! I never h’ard o’ sic a thing! What’s the natur’ o’ ’t, Cosmo?”
He tried to give her some far-off idea of the sort of thing algebra was, but apparently without success, for she cried at length,
“Na, sirs! I hae h’ard o’ cairts, an’ bogles, an’ witchcraft, an’ astronomy, but sic a thing as this ye bring me noo, I never did hear tell o’! What can the warl’ be comin’ till!—An’ dis the father o’ ye, laddie, ken what ye spen’ yer midnicht hoors gangin’ teachin’ to the lass-bairns o’ the country roon’?”
She was interrupted by the entrance of the laird, and they sat down to breakfast. The grandmother within the last year had begun to take hers in her own room.
Grizzie was full of anxiety to know what the laird would say to the discovery she had just made, but she dared not hazard allusion to the conduct of his son, and must therefore be content to lead the conversation in the direction of it, hoping it might naturally appear. So, about the middle of Cosmo’s breakfast, that is, about two minutes after he had attacked his porridge, she approached her design, if not exactly the object she desired, with the remark,