“If they werena there it wad be a miracle.”
“——-and the laundries is there. ‘Colin Campbell’ over yin o’ them, him that bate Bonypart, ye ken, and twenty yairds frae the pend-close is richt under twenty ton o’ coal I put in last week. It’s no’ M’Callum’s wid-yaird; it’s my ree.”
“My papa was the sole proprietor of a large wid-yaird,” irrelevantly remarked Mrs Duffy; who was getting more and more Englified as the details of the prospective fortune came put.
“Was he, indeed,” said Jinnet. “That was nice!”
“Noo, whit I wanted you to dae for me,” Duffy went on, “was to come awa’ doon wi’ me the nicht and gie’s a hand to shift thae coals. I daurna ask ony o’ my men to come, for they wad claim halfers.”
Erchie toyed with a teaspoon and looked at the coalman, half in pity, half with amusement.
“Man, ye’re a rale divert,” said he at last. “Do ye think the newspapers would be at the bother o’ puttin’ their medallion under twenty ton o’ coal in your coal-ree, or ony body else’s? Na, na, they can mak’ their money easier nor that. If ye tak’, my advice, ye’ll put a penny on the bag o’ coal and gie short wecht, and ye’ll mak’ your fortune far shairer than lookin’ under’t for medallions.”’
“Then ye’re no’ game to gie’s a hand?” said Duffy, starting another cookie. “See’s the sugar.”
“Not me!” said Erchie promptly. “I’ve a flet fit and a warm hert, but I’m no’ a’thegither a born idiot to howk coal for medallions that’s no’ there.”
Next day Duffy came up with two bags of coals which Jinnet had ordered.