“It wes kind o' ye, sir, an' mindfu'.” Rebecca spoke, not John, and her tone was of one who might have to be firm and must not give herself away by sentiment.
“It is no longer possible for me, through... certain events, to live as I have been accustomed to do, and I am afraid that I must... do without your help. A woman coming in to cook and... such like will be all I can afford.” The expression on the housekeeper's face at this point was such that even the Doctor did not dare to look at her again, but turned to John, whose countenance was inscrutable.
“Your future, John, has been giving me much anxious thought, and I hope to be able to do something with Lord Kilspindie next week. There are many quiet places on the estate which might suit...” then the Doctor weakened, “although I know well no place will ever be like Drumtochty, and the old Manse will never be the same... without you. But you see how it is... friends.”
“Doctor Davidson,” and he knew it was vain to escape her, “wi' yir permission a wud like tae ask ye ane or twa questions, an' ye 'ill forgie the leeberty. Dis ony man in the Pairish o' Drumtochty ken yir wys like John? Wha 'ill tak yir messages, an' prepare the fouk for the veesitation, an' keep the gairden snod, an' see tae a' yir trokes when John's awa? Wull ony man ever cairry the bukes afore ye like John?”
“Never,” admitted the Doctor, “never.”
“Div ye expect the new wumman 'ill ken hoo mickle stairch tae pit in yir stock, an' hoo mickle butter ye like on yir chicken, an' when ye change yir flannels tae a day, an' when ye like anither blanket on yir bed, an' the wy tae mak the currant drink for yir cold?”
“No, no, Rebecca, nobody will ever be so good to me as you've been”—the Doctor was getting very shaky.
“Then what for wud ye send us awa, and bring in some handless, useless tawpie that cud neither cook ye a decent meal nor keep the Manse wise like? Is't for room? The Manse is as big as ever. Is't for meat? We'ill eat less than she 'ill waste.”
“You know better, Rebecca,” said the Doctor, attempting to clear his throat; “it's because... because I cannot afford to...”
“A ken very weel, an' John an' me hev settled that For thirty year ye've paid us better than ony minister's man an' manse hoosekeeper in Perthshire, an' ye wantit tae raise oor wages aifter we mairrit. Div ye ken what John an' me hev in the bank for oor laist days?”