“Losh me, laddie, ye’ll be the death o’ me!”
“I hope not, Mrs Niven,” said Jack, laughing, as he shook her hand heartily and sat down, “for my own sake as well as yours; because I have come to take my old room if it is vacant.”
“Yer auld room, Maister Jack!” exclaimed the bewildered woman.
“Yes, if it is not already occupied.”
“The yin wi’ the reeky lum and the view o’ chimbley-pots frae the wundy?”
“The same. I hope I can have it, for I’m going to college again, and I’ve an affection for the old place, despite the smoky chimney and the cans on the cats’ parade.”
“Yer jokin’, Maister Jack.”
“Indeed I am not, Mrs Niven.”
“They telt me ye was in Callyforny, an had made ’eer fortin there by howkin’ gold.”
“Well, they told the truth, my good woman, but I happened to invest all in Blankow Bank shares, and—”