“Hout, woman, do ye ca’ yon coarse?” answered the salt-water man. “Skaith! no, if it werena that auld careless body Willie Tamson that brought in his heavy brute o’ a boat ower the nets, and had nigh coupit her, forbye driving I kenna how mony stakes out of the shore, and garring us lose a day’s kep. The fish are aye maist plentiful when the water’s troubled; puir beasts! they haena muckle variety in their life—I’m thinking they’ll like a storm for the sake o’ change; onyway, they’re aye strong when the Firth’s champing like an ill-willy horse.”
“And are ye doing ought weel, Robbie?” said Mrs Mense.
“No to compleen o’,” answered Robbie, “it aye hauds us gaun. I’m thinking we’ll be no that ill this year; the red fish looks weel. See to that grilse; ye’ll be needing it for the Laird’s dinner the day. Did ye ever see a bonnier beast in the water or out o’t?”
After considerable bargaining, the grilse was laid aside together with store of flounders.
“For there’s nae saying,” said Robbie, “when I may be round again, and it’s better to hae a wheen ower mony than ower few—that’s philosophy—ye can ask the Laird. I’m thinking to send Peter mair; he’s a muckle callant grown, and I see nae occasion I have, to keep a doug, and bark mysel; if it wasna that it wad be an awfu’ loss to the haill countryside—I dinna ken what ye wad a’ do, wanting me.”
“Ye’ve aye a guid word o’ yoursel, Robbie Caryl,” said Janet.
“There’s ne’er a ane kens me as weel, Jen, my woman,” retorted the undaunted Robbie; “if it binna the wife; and the wife’s gift is mair for finding out folk’s faults than their guid qualities; but when I gie ower coming ye’ll find it out; see if ye dinna be gieing weary looks ilka market-day for Robbie Caryl and the cuddie.”
“We’ll wait till that time comes, Robbie,” said Mrs Mense; “but, man, hae ye nae mair news than that?”
“Hearken till her noo,” said Robbie, reflectively; “hearken till the gate o’ thae women—ne’er a thing but news in the heads o’ them. Jen, I’m awa’—hae ye ony message to your joe? I’m the canniest man gaun—I ne’er was blackfit at a courtin’ yet but it throve; and speaking about marryin’—that’s what ye ca’ news, I’m thinking?—the wives in the toun are thrang on the top o’ ane e’en now.”
“Wha is’t Robbie?” asked Janet and her aunt together.