They’re yatterin’ awa’ in the papers there like sweetie-wives aboot Carlyle and his wife,” said Erchie. “It’s no’ the thing at a’ makin’ an exposure. I kent Carlyle fine; he had a wee baker’s shop in Balmano Brae, and his wife made potted heid. It was quite clean; there was naething wrang wi’t. If they quarrelled it was naebody’s business but their ain.
“It’s a gey droll hoose whaur there’s no’ whiles a rippit. Though my fit’s flet my hert’s warm; but even me and Jinnet hae a cast-oot noo and then. I’m aye the mair angry if I ken I’m wrang, and I’ve seen me that bleezin’ bad tempered that I couldna light my pipe, and we wadna speak to ane anither for oors and oors.
“It’ll come to nicht, and me wi’ a job at waitin’ to gang to, and my collar that hard to button I nearly break my thoombs.
“For a while Jinnet’ll say naethin’, and then she’ll cry, ‘See’s a haud o’t, ye auld fuiter!’ I’ll be glowerin’ awfu’ solemn up at the corner o’ the ceilin’ when she’s workin’ at the button, lettin’ on I’m fair ferocious yet, and she’ll say, Whit are ye glowerin’ at? Dae ye see ony spiders’ webs?’
“‘No, nor spiders’ webs,’ I says, as gruff as onything. ‘I never saw a spider’s web in this hoose.’
“At that she gets red in the face and tries no’ to laugh.
“‘There ye are laughin’! Ye’re bate!’ I says.
“So are you laughin’,’ says she; ‘and I saw ye first. Awa’, ye’re daft! Will I buy onything tasty for your supper?’
“Duffy’s different. I’m no’ blamin’ him, for his wife’s different too. When they quarrel it scandalises the close and gies the land a bad name. The wife washes even-on, and greets into her washin’-byne till she mak’s the water cauld, and Duffy sits a’ nicht wi’ his feet on the kitchen-hobs singin’ ‘Boyne Water,’ because her mither was a Bark, called M’Ginty, and cam’ frae Connaught. The folk in the flet abin them hae to rap doon at them wi’ a poker afore they’ll get their nicht’s sleep, and the broken delf that gangs oot to the ash-pit in the mornin’ wad fill a crate.
“I’m no’ sayin’, mind ye, that Duffy doesna like her; it’s jist his wye, for he hasna ony edication. He was awfu’ vexed the time she broke her leg; it pit him aff his wark for three days, and he spent the time lamentin’ aboot her doon in the Mull o’ Kintyre Vaults.