I never myself had much faith to put in an ignorant, deformed, half-dwarfed creature, and Shufflin’ Sandie was all that, both physically and morally.
I don’t think that Sandie was a thief, but I do believe he would have done almost anything to turn an honest penny. Indeed, as regards working hard there was nothing wrong with Sandie. Craig Nicol, the farmer, had given him many a half-crown, and now he saw his way, or thought he did, to earn another.
Well, Sandie, at ten o’clock, brought round Laird Fletcher’s horse, and before mounting, the Laird, who, with all his wealth, was a wee bit of a niggard, gave him twopence.
“The stingy, close-fisted, old tottering brute. Tuppince, eh!”
Shufflin’ Sandy shook his fist after the Laird.
“You marry our bonnie Annie?” he said, half-aloud. “Man, I’d sooner see the dearie floating down the Dee like a dead hare than to see her wedded to an old fossil like you.”
Sandie went off now to his bed in the loft, and soon all was peace around Bilberry Hall, save when the bloodhounds in their kennels lifted up their bell-like voices, giving warning to any tramp, or poacher that might come near the Hall.
Annie knelt reverently down and said her prayers before getting into bed.
The tears were in her eyes when she got up.
“Oh,” she said to her maid, “I hope I haven’t hurt poor Mr Fletcher’s feelings! He really is a kind soul, and he was very sincere.”