When a Man's Single: A Tale of Literary Life

by J. M. Barrie

'What was your opeenion o' her then, Tammas?'

'Weel, Silva, to tell the truth I was oncommon favourably impreesed. She shook hands wi' me, man, an' she had sic a saft voice an' sic a bonny face I was a kind o' carried awa; yes, I was so.'

'Ay, ye say that, Tammas. Weel, I think I'll be movin'. They'll be keen to hear aboot this in the square.'

'I said to her,' continued Tammas, peering through his half-closed eyes at Silva, ''at Rob was a lucky crittur to get sic a bonny wife.'

'Ye did!' cried Silva. 'An' hoo did she tak that?'

'Ou,' said Tammas complacently, 'she took it weel.'

'I wonder,' said Silva, now a dozen yards away, ''at Rob never sent ony o' the papers he writes to Thrums juist to lat's see them.'

'He sent a heap,' said Tammas, 'to the minister, meanin' them to be passed roond, but Mr. Dishart didna juist think they were quite the thing, ye un'erstan', so he keeps them lockit up in a press.'

'They say in the toon,' said Silva, ''at Rob would never hae got on sae weel if Mr. Dishart hadna helpit him. Do you think there's onything in that?'

Tammas was sunk in reverie, and Silva at last departed. He was out of sight by the time the stone-breaker came to.