“Not as yet, sir; but there is no time lost.”
She blushed; but Lindsey coloured ten times deeper when he cast his eyes upon the child. His heart died within him at the thoughts that now obtruded themselves; it was likewise wrung for his imprudence and indelicacy. What was his business whether she was married or not, or how she was connected with the child? She seemed likewise to be put into some confusion at the turn the conversation was taking; and, anxious to bring it to a conclusion as soon as possible, she tucked up the wool in her apron below one arm, and was lifting up the child with the other to go away, when Lindsey stepped forward, saying, “Will not you shake hands with me, my good little fellow, before you go?”
“Ay,” said the child, stretching out his little chubby hand; “how d’ye doo, sil?”
Lindsay smiled, shook his hand heartily, and put a crown piece into it.
“Ah, sir, don’t give him that,” said she, blushing deeply.
“It is only a play-thing that he must keep for my sake.”
“Thank you, sil,” said the child. “Great muckle shilling, mamma.”
This last appellation, mamma, struck Lindsey motionless;—he had not another word to say;—while the two went away prattling to one another.
“Vely lalge fine-looking shilling, mamma.”