‘It is impossible that he can write,’ said the doctor.
‘Ye hae no business to mak ony sic observation,’ exclaimed the benevolent lawyer. ‘Ye shou’d say nothing till we try. In the name of justice and mercy, is there nobody in this house that will fetch me pen and ink?’
It was evident to all present that Claud perfectly understood what his friend said; and his eyes betokened eagerness and satisfaction; but the expression with which his features accompanied the assent in his look was horrible and appalling.
At this juncture Leddy Grippy came rushing, half dressed, into the room, her dishevelled grey hair flying loosely over her shoulders, exclaiming,—
‘What’s wrang noo?—what new judgement has befallen us?—Whatna fearfu’ image is that like a corpse out o’ a tomb, that’s making a’ this rippet for the cheatrie instruments o’ pen and ink, when a dying man is at his last gasp?’
‘Mrs. Walkinshaw, for Heaven’s sake be quiet;—your gudeman,’ replied Mr. Keelevin, opening the hood of his trotcosey, and throwing it back; taking off, at the same time, his cocked hat—‘Your gudeman kens very weel what I hae read to him. It’s a provision for Mrs. Charles and her orphans.’
‘But is there no likewise a provision in’t for me?’ cried the Leddy.
‘Oh, Mrs. Walkinshaw, we’ll speak o’ that hereafter; but let us get this executed aff-hand,’ replied Mr. Keelevin. ‘Ye see your gudeman kens what we’re saying, and looks wistfully to get it done. I say, in the name of God, get me pen and ink.’
‘Ye’s get neither pen nor ink here, Mr. Keelevin, till my rights are cognost in a record o’ sederunt and session.’