read Posty, with official importance; “that's a' richt, at ony rate.”
“He aye sent it tae his mither himsel; juist read the beginning Posty... that 'ill be eneuch.” And David fixed his eyes on the letter, while Meg dared not breathe.
“It affords me unspeakable satisfaction,” began Posty, in a low voice, and then he suddenly lifted it up in victory, “to send good news. The very day I wrote the worst symptoms disappeared, and your son is now on the way to recovery.”
“There 's fower pages, an' a' can read, 'no cause now for alarm, but ye canna better the affset. A' kent what it wud be; the doctor said gude news in his prayer, and that's the verra word.
“Here, Mistress Ross, is the letter, for Bog-leigh's no fit tae tak chairge o 't.... Me? A 've dune naethin' but cairry it.
“A 'll no deny, though, a' wud hae liket fine tae hev seen the inside o't doon bye; sall, as sune as a' passed the boondary o' the pairish the fouk set on me, but a' cud say naethin' mair than this, 'There's an Australy letter, and it's no black-edged.'
“A'm aff noo,” buckling his bag, for Mrs. Ross had risen and was threatening to seize his hand; “an' it 's worth gaein' up the Glen the day wi' sic news. A 'll warrant Domsie's on the road lang syne. Ye 'ill hae the Professor wi' ye in the Kirk again, gude wife, an' the neeburs 'ill be prood tae see ye baith gang in the-gither,” and Posty leapt into the road like a four-year-old.
Beginning at the manse, and continuing unto Drumsheugh, there was not a house along the road where Posty did not give a cry that day, and it was affirmed on credible evidence in the kirkyard next Sabbath that he stood upon a dyke and made Hillocks understand at the distance of two fields' breadth that Drumtochty had still a Professor.