That night old Betty forgot her growing-pains and sang to the boy, Hamish Og, and it was a mercy that he had not much of the Gaelic so far, for the songs were not very douce, and not what a body might be expecting from an old woman that had seen much sorrow; but I am often thinking that she would have her good days too, for she would be enjoying her biting, and putting a pith into it that made Dan himself stare in wonder.
And I told my uncle and my aunt the news when Margaret was not by, for I kept mind of her talk of old wives' havers, and I kent the mother of Margaret would not be telling her, nor the Laird either for that part, for he was a good deal under her thumb in these matters; but for all that I might have been sparing myself the bother, for this is what came of it.
We were gathered for the reading and Hugh a little late, as was usual when he went 'sourrying—God forbid that he should—when he went courting, and after the reading there was a little time to talk, and, said he, stretching his legs—
"Helen was telling me Bryde will be home one of these days."
Now here, thinks I, is a bonny kettle of fish, for Margaret was sitting with us, but for all the suddenness of it she never geed her beaver, and I kent then that she had word some way.
"Mistress Helen has quick news," said I.
"She has a maid yonder, Dol Beag's lass, and she brought the word frae
McKinnon's son, it seems; Kate Dol Beag had the news."
"Imphm," said I, for Margaret was looking down and smiling in a way that angered me a little—"imphm," said I. "Did she say was he bringing his wife with him?"
"Wife?" said Hugh with a start.
Margaret was not smiling now, but I will say this; she was making a brave try at it.