“Ay, I will,” said Jock, and thrusting his hands down into his pockets, he rolled like a great ship on a heaving sea out of the workshop, along the road, and then through the little garden, and without ceremony into the cottage, stooping his head as he passed in at the low door.
Part 2, Chapter IX.
A Cruel Charge.
Polly was busy at needle-work, and as the great fellow strode in and stood staring at her, she started up and seemed as if about to run away.
“You here, Jock, again?” she faltered.
“Ay! here I am again,” he said, in a deep growl, as he fixed her with his eye, while she trembled before him and his fierce look.
“I’m glad—to see you, Jock,” she said, faintly, and she glanced towards the door.
“That’s a lie,” he growled, and then he laughed grimly, but only for his face to darken into a savage scowl. “Tom said I was to come in, lass.”