Nanny spoke nervously, and Gavin drew a long face.
“I think she will,” he said faintly. “I am confident of it,” he added in the same voice.
“And has she the siller?”
“I believe in her,” said Gavin, so doggedly that his own words reassured him. “She has an excellent heart.”
“Ay,” said Nanny, to whom the minister’s faith was more than the Egyptian’s promise, “and that’s hardly natural in a gaen-aboot body. Yet a gypsy she maun be, for naebody would pretend to be ane that wasna. Tod, she proved she was an Egyptian by dauring to send you to the well.”
This conclusive argument brought her prospective dower so close to Nanny’s eyes that it hid the poorhouse.
“I suppose she’ll gie you the money,” she said, “and syne you’ll gie me the seven shillings a week?”
“That seems the best plan,” Gavin answered.
“And what will you gie it me in?” Nanny asked, with something on her mind. “I would be terrible obliged if you gae it to me in saxpences.”
“Do the smaller coins go farther?” Gavin asked, curiously.