'The siller was twa hundred pounds, an' it was lyin' at the bank, and the bank manager got it for various advice—ceevility an' attention paid to Mistress Wallace.
'Weel, there was anither puir widdie—a far-off cousin o' hers, that had a bairn born till her after her man died, and the puir widdie juist askit Mistress Wallace to be its godmither.
'Noo Mistress Wallace had nae bairns o' her ain, ye ken, an' it pleasured her fine to be a godmither to the fatherless bairn, but bein' verra frail i' body, she didna get the codicil signed an' witnessed before her "stroke."
'Weel, the doctor, he kenned aal about the hail matter, an' he gied the puir widdie the bit paper, since he was managin' her bit affairs. He thocht aiblins if the bank manager saw it he micht "pairt "—but deevil a bodle wull he hand ower, though the doctor saw him himsel'.'
The Minister nodded his apprehension, then taking the pipe out of his mouth, inquired, 'Wha was the puir widdie woman?'
'Ye'll ken my sister?' replied Ringan, gazing fixedly at the fire, 'Effie that was marrit on puir Jock Ord—a fine laddie he was—verra knowledgeable wi' sheep, wha perished in a snowstorm, mindin' his hirsel.
'She was left gey ill aff, an' noo wi' a bairn to provide for, hard pit till 't. Twa hundred punds wull provide for his upbringin', an' aiblins turn him into a meenister at the finish.'
'Ay,' replied the Minister,' I mind Effie well, puir decent body, for didna I marry them? An' I heard tell o' her man's death, but I hadna seen nither since they went herdin' ower the Carter Bar. But whaur does the "ghaist" come intil the story?' inquired the speaker in conclusion.
Ringan continued to contemplate the fire with fixed attention, then slowly delivered himself as follows:
'I'm hearin' that the Burnside Field Club wull be comin' up the water to hold their meetin' here shortly, an' to view the Roman Camp. I mind they were here ten years before, an' this year the president is the bank manager doon at the auld toon, wha has gruppit the siller I've tell't ye aboot. Weel, ye'll ken him, an' aiblins,' here the speaker took up the bellows and thoughtfully assisted the fire's respiration, 'aiblins it wud be a ceevil matter to offer to gie him a night's lodgin', for it's a gey lang way up frae the auld toon, an' the manager's gettin' gey white aboot the pow.'