‘Goodness! and is this to throw poor Beenie and Walky adrift?’ exclaimed Walkinshaw.
‘Charity, Jamie, my bairn, begins at hame, and they hae a nearer claim on Dirdumwhamle, who is Walky’s lawful father, than on me; so e’en let them live upon him till I invite them back again.’
Walkinshaw, though really shocked, he could not tell why, was yet so tickled by the Leddy’s adroitness, that he laughed most immoderately, and was unable for some time in consequence to communicate the message, of which he was the joyous bearer; but when he told her, she exclaimed,—
‘Na, if that’s the turn things hae ta’en, I’ll defer my visit to Miss Jenny for the present; so we’ll return back. For surely, baith Beenie and Walky will no be destitute of a’ consideration, when they come to their kingdom, for the dreadfu’ cost and outlay that I hae been at the last five weeks. But, if they’re guilty o’ sic niggerality, I’ll mak out a count—bed, board, and washing, at five and twenty shillings a-week, Mrs. Scrimpit, the minister’s widow of Toomgarnels, tells me, would be a charge o’ great moderation;—and if they pay’t, as pay’t they shall, or I’ll hae them for an affront to the Clerk’s Chambers; ye’s get the whole half o’t, Jamie, to buy yoursel a braw Andrew Ferrara. But I marvel, wi’ an exceeding great joy, at this cast o’ grace that’s come on your uncle. For, frae the hour he saw the light, he was o’ a most voracious nature for himsel; and while the fit lasts, I hope ye’ll get him to do something for you.’
Walkinshaw then told her not only what his uncle had done, but with the ardour in which the free heart of youth delights to speak of favours, he recapitulated all the kind and friendly things that had been said to him.
‘Jamie, Jamie, I ken your uncle Geordie better than you,—for I hae been his mother. It’s no for a courtesy o’ causey clash that he’s birling his mouldy pennies in sic firlots,—tak my word for’t.’
‘There is no possible advantage can arise to him from his kindness to me.’
‘That’s to say, my bairn, that ye hae na a discerning spirit to see’t; but if ye had the second sight o’ experience as I hae, ye would fin’ a whaup in the nest, or I am no a Christian sister, bapteesed Girzel.’
By this time they had returned to the house, and the maid having unlocked the door, and carried in the trunk, Walkinshaw followed his grandmother into the parlour, with the view of enjoying what she herself called, the observes of her phlosification; but the moment she had taken her seat, instead of resuming the wonted strain of her jocular garrulity, she began to sigh deeply, and weep bitterly, a thing which he never saw her do before but in a way that seldom failed to amuse him; on this occasion, however, her emotion was unaffected, and it moved him to pity her. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ said he, kindly;—she did not, however, make any answer for some time, but at last she said,—
‘Thou’s gaun awa to face thy faes,—as the sang sings, “far far frae me and Logan braes,”—and I am an aged person, and may ne’er see thee again; and I am wae to let thee gang, for though thou was ay o’ a nature that had nae right reverence for me, a deevil’s buckie, my heart has ay warm’t to thee mair than to a’ the lave o’ my grandchildren; but it’s no in my power to do for thee as thy uncle has done, though it’s well known to every one that kens me, that I hae a most generous heart,—far mair than e’er he had,—and I would na part wi’ thee without hanselling thy knapsack. Hegh, Sirs! little did I think whan the pawky laddie spoke o’ my bit gathering wi’ Robin Carrick, that it was in a sincerity; but thou’s get a part. I’ll no let thee gang without a solid benison, so tak the key, and gang into the scrutoire and bring out the pocket-book.’