“Leezbeth, dinna mak licht o' sic a veesita-tion,” said Janet, with all the dignity of affliction; “ye dinna ken when it micht draw nearer hame. It wes hangin' ower Peter for months, but it cam oot sudden in the end, a' in a piece ae morning. Na, the tribble 'ill tak a rin up an' doon his legs, but it disna settle there, an' a' canna deny that he 's fractious at a time, but he never rammils (wanders); whatever it be, the tribble keeps tae its ain place.”
“Whar is that and what like is't?” for Leezbeth was now reduced to entreaty; “there maun be something tae see, an', Janet wum-man, a've hed deiths amang ma fouk, tae sae naethin' o' bringin' up Drumsheugh's calves for thirty year.”
“A' ken ye're skilly, Leezbeth,” said Janet, much mollified by Leezbeth's unwonted humility, “an' a'd be gled o' yir advice. Ye daurna ask Peter for a sicht, but a 'll gie ye an idea o't. It's juist for a' the warld,” and Leezbeth held her breath, “like a sklatch o' eukiness (itchiness) half roond his waist, naither mair nor less.”
“Is that a', Janet?” and Leezbeth began to take revenge for her humiliation; “ye needna hae made sic an ado aboot. Div ye no ken what's the maitter wi' yir man? gin ye hed ony gumption (sense) he micht hae been weel lang syne.
“Wumman, it 's a heat in the banes 'at he's gotten laist hairst, and the spring's drawin' it oot. Dinna send it in for ony sake, eke ye 'ill hae yir man in the kirkyaird.
“Ma advice,” continued Leezbeth, now rioting in triumph, “t'wud be tae rub him weel wi whisky; ye canna gang wrang wi' speerits, oot or in; an' dinna lat him sleep; if he took tae dronyin' (dozing) ye micht never get him waukened.” And so Drumsheugh's housekeeper departed, having dashed Janet at a stroke.
When Kirsty arrived in the afternoon to offer her services, Janet had no heart to enter into the case.
“Drumsheugh's Leezbeth gied us a cry afore dinner and settled the maitter; gin she lays doon the law there 's naebody need conter her; ye wud think she 'd been at the creation tae hear her speak; ye 've hed a lang traivel, Kirsty, an' ye 'ill be ready for yir tea.”
“Ou ay,” replied Janet bitterly, “she gied it a name; it's naething but a bit heat—a bairn's rash, a'm jidgin', though a'never saw ane like it a' ma days; but Leezbeth kens better, wi' a' her experience, an' of coorse it's a sateesfaction tae ken that the Glen needna fash (trouble) themselves aboot Peter.”
“Leezbeth wesna blate,” Kirsty burst out, unable to contain herself at the thought of this intrusion into her recognised sphere, “an' it 's a mercy we hae the like o' her in the Glen noo that Doctor Maclure is deid an' gane. Did ye say her experience?” and Kirsty began to warm to the occasion; “a' wunner whether it's wi' beasts or fouk? Gin it be wi' Drumsheugh's young cattle, a' hae naethin' tae say; but gin it be Christians, a' wud juist ask ae question—hoo mony o' her fouk hes she beeried?”