I heard twa corbies making a mane
The tane unto the tither say:
‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’
‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane
And I’ll pick out his bonnie blue een,
Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair
We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.’
Anon.
“We had better speak low, Mr. Burton,” I said. “I will be as short as I can. You know the position as well as I do, and that if I do my duty the result will be a long rope and a short shrift before night.”
He looked about him, and drawing forward his ample skirts, he took with much calmness—but I suspected that he was not as cool as he looked—a seat on my bed. “Have you not made a mistake, Major?” he drawled.