"Aye," he was saying, "a dictionary 's a graund institution; aye, jist a graund institution, like. When me an' the master now meets a word we dinna ken, we jist run him doon in the dictionary, an' there he is, ye see!"
"Oh, books will be fine things," said Big Malcolm, "but that Hamish of ours will jist be no use when he will be getting his nose into one, whatever. And he will be making the wee man jist as bad. Eh, it's him that'll make the reader!" His eyes shone as they always did at any mention of his grandson.
"Aye, Hamish is the man for the books!" cried Store Thompson enthusiastically. "How is he gettin' on wi' Ivanhoe?"
"Och, he would be finishing it the night after he brought it home, indeed; and now the little upstart will be trying his hand at it whatever."
"Feenishin' it in twa nichts!" cried Store Thompson, aghast at such extravagance. "Hut, tut! yon's no way to use a book. When me an' the wife read Ivanhoe last winter, we jist read a wee bit at a time for fear it wouldna last; it wes that interestin'. Aye, books is too scarce to be used yon way."
"And what will you and the master be reading, this winter, James?" inquired Long Lauchie, who had just returned from one of his mental excursions.
Store Thompson's face beamed. "Eh, it's a graund book this time, Lauchie, jist an Astronomy, like."
"Eh, losh, an' what would it be about?"
"All aboot the stars, aye an' the moon an' the constellations, like."
"Eh, eh!" Long Lauchie was very much impressed. "And would it be telling about the comets, whatever?"