‘What are you, Mr. Walkinshaw?’
‘A man, sir.—My mother and brother want to mak me a daft ane.’
‘How do you suspect them of any such intention?’
‘Because ye see I’m here—I would na hae been here but for that.’
The countenance of honest Keelevin began to brighten, while that of George was clouded and overcast.
‘Then you do not think you are a daft man?’ said the advocate.
‘Nobody thinks himsel daft. I dare say ye think ye’re just as wise as me.’
A roar of laughter shook the Court, and Threeper blushed and was disconcerted; but he soon resumed, tartly,—
‘Upon my word, Mr. Walkinshaw, you have a good opinion of yourself. I should like to know for what reason?’