'I'm wae it didna skirl,' said Mrs. Kilgour. It's aye a gude sign. My gude-mither wad aye be sayin' it was a sign the Deil was losin' its hauld o' the bairn.'
'Ye've no warrant in Scriptur for that, Mistress,' said Peter. 'It's a superstitious notion, an' I'm misdoubtin' but it's a rag o' the whoor o' Babylon.'
'A weel! I kenna mysel, but mine skirled weel. I had to rin out wi' Meisie there, or she'd hae deaved the hale kirk wi' her screighin'. An' see til her noo! for a braw sonsey lass. The pruif o' the puddin's the preein' o' 't. Babylon or no!'
'An' wha's the Minister's wein ca'd after?'
'On Miss Mary be sure! She carried her in.'
'An' wha's acht it? That's what I want to ken, an' that's what the minister disna ken himsel',' said Mrs. Boague. 'I had a' about it frae Luckie Howden, an' she's nane sae weel pleased that Eppie Ness has gotten the tent o' 't, by her. An' her keppin' the minister's teapat in her corner cupboard. They micht hae leuten her turn a penny on the bairn. But ye see they're sleepin' down by at Eppie's, an' sae she's gotten Miss Mary's lug, an' says what she likes intil't. But its juist the way o' the warld. The puir maun aye to the wa'. But as I was sayin' the minister gaed ower til Mary yon ae dark nicht, an' the mornin after he brocht hame this bit bairnie in his arms. An' he thinks the Lord gied it til him. He fand it lyin' on the sands at Effick Mouth, a' happit up in the finest o' claes, an' he thinks it maun be a leddy's bairn washed ashore by the sea, when some big ship an' a' body intil't was lost in the storm. It's a queer tale, an it's rael gude o' thae twa young folk to tak up wi' the puir wee stray, an be at a' chairges.'
'It's a verra queer tale,' said Peter Malloch.
'A verra queer tale, nae doubt,' repeated William. 'The gentles was crackin' ower't ae fore nicht, ower their denner up by at Inchbracken, an' a curious story they made out o't, but ye hae na juist the hing o't as they had it, Mistress Boague. Odd sak! my heart fairly lap i' my mouth to hear them, an' I a' but cowpet the dish wi' the wine sass on my Leddy's saitin gown. Gin it hadna been for the look Mester Smith the butler gied me, I'd hae let it fa', that's sure, an' syne I micht hae hanged mysel', for it's ne'er inside the dinin'-room door I'd hae been leuten again. The General wad hae ordered me out himsel'. He'll stand nae flousterin' frae the attendance I'se tell ye.'
'But ye hae na telled us what the gentles said yet, William. Belike ye war that frichtet ye hae forgotten't a'.'
'I'se no forget it in a hurry. But I canna sae weel rehearse't, atween what they said, an' what they garred a body think, tho' aiblins they mayna hae puiten their tongue til't. For it's no a thing a body daur say afore her leddyship. But Mistress Briggs, my leddy's woman kens a' about it, an' it was her telled Miss Finlayson. She kens what's been ado wi' Tibbie Tirpie this lang while back. An' she was comin' ower frae Inverlyon e'y mail coach that dark nicht the minister gaed for the bairn, an' wha suld the driver put in aside her but Tibbie Tirpie? He said it was a sair nicht for a lassie to travel her lane across the muir, sae he juist in wi' her an' stieket the door. An' deil a word she spak to Mistress Briggs the hale road, juist pu'd the plaid ower her face an' grat an' sabbet a' the time. Mistress Briggs, ye see, is verra genteel an' parteeklar, an' was for complainin', about folk bein' puiten in aside her, an' sae she telled Miss Finlayson whan she cam hame, an' the day, ye see, it cam a' back on me, when I seen Tibbie greetin' an' carryin' on e'y kirk. An' whan she gaed slinkin' hame afore the weins were brocht into baptise, thinks I to mysel', aiblins Miss Finlayson's no that far wrang!'