The letter is taken from an old stocking, and, as she pretends to some difficulty in finding the place, Meg is obliged to read it for the forty-ninth time throughout from the name of the University at the head to the signature:
“Heart's love to you both from
“Your ever affectionate son,
“John Ross.”
David makes as though he had missed a word now and again in order to prolong the pleasure.
It was not hard to tell that he had such a letter in his pocket on the 'Sabbath, for the kirkyard was very cunning in its sympathy.
“Hoo's the Professor keepin' when ye heard laist, Bogleigh?” Drumsheugh would say, skilfully leading up to the one subject, and careful to give David his territorial designation, although it was a very small farm indeed, “he 'ill send a scrape o' the pen at a time, a 'm ex-peckin', gin he hes a meenut tae spare.”
“Busy or no busy,” answers Bogleigh, “he maks time tae write hame. His mither hes hed a letter frae John aince a week withoot fail sin he left Bogleigh a laddie o' saxteen for Edinburgh.
“They 're no juist twa or three lines, aither, but sax an' aught sheets,” continued David, warming. “An' the names, they cowe a'thing for length an' leamin'. Wud ye believe it, the Professor tells his mither every article he writes, and a' the wark he dis.
“He wes tellin's laist letter aboot some graund discovery he's feenished, an' they 're threatenin' tae gie him a new title for't. A'm no juist sure what it means, but it disna maitter, gin the laddie dis his duty and keep his health,” and David affected to close the subject. “It's fell warm the day.”