“Sometimes it's like this, and sometimes it's just ordinary Scotch weather,” said Mr. Dyce, twinkling at her through his spectacles.
“I was dre'ffle sleepy in the mail, and the driver wrapped me up, and when I came into this town in the dark he said, 'Walk right down there and rap at the first door you see with a brass man's hand for a knocker; that's Mr. Dyce's house.' I came down, and there wasn't any brass man, but I saw the knocker. I couldn't reach up to it, so when I saw a man going into the church with a lantern in his hand. I went up to him and pulled his coat. I knew he'd be all right going into a church. He told me he was going to ring the bell, and I said I'd give him a quarter—oh, I said that before. When the bell was finished he took me to his house for luck—that was what he said—and he and his wife got right up and boiled eggs. They said I was a caution, too, and they went on boiling eggs, and I couldn't eat more than two and a white though I tried and tried. I think I slept a good while in their house; I was so fatigued, and they were all right, they loved me, I could see that. And I liked them some myself, though they must be mighty poor, for they haven't any children. Then the bellman took me to this house, and rapped at the door, and went away pretty quick for him before anybody came to it, because he said he was plain-soled—what's plain-soled anyhow?—and wasn't a lucky first-foot on a New Year's morning.''
“It beats all, that's what it does!” cried Bell. “My poor wee whitterick! Were ye no' frightened on the sea?”
“Whitterick, whitterick,” repeated the child to herself, and Ailie, noticing, was glad that this was certainly not a diffy. Diffies never interest themselves in new words; diffies never go inside themselves with a new fact as a dog goes under a table with a bone.
“Were you not frightened when you were on the sea?” repeated Bell.
“No,” said the child, promptly. “Jim was there all right, you see, and he knew all about it. He said, 'Trust in Providence, and if it's very stormy, trust in Providence and the Scotch captain.'”
“I declare! the creature must have some kind of sense in him, too,” said Bell, a little mollified by this compliment to Scots sea-captains. And all the Dyces fed their eyes upon this wonderful wean that had fallen among them. 'Twas happy in that hour with them, as if in a miracle they had been remitted to their own young years; their dwelling was at long last furnished! She had got into the good graces of Footles as if she had known him all her life.
“Say, uncle, this is a funny dog,” was her next remark. “Did God make him?”
“Well—yes, I suppose God did,” said Mr. Dyce, taken a bit aback.
“Well, isn't He the damedst! This dog beats Mrs. Molyneux's Dodo, and Dodo was a looloo. What sort of a dog is he? Scotch terrier?”