“It maun be a licht yoke that we never felt. Mak us free, dootless, like that blackamoor servant that’s cooking yer breakfast.”
“Waal, no,” said another officer, “yer a furriner, ye know, but yer white.”
“A foreigner!” exclaimed Mrs Forsyth, “hae I lived to be ca’ed in my ain house, a foreigner! I belang to nae sic trash. Manners maun be scarce whaur you come frae, my man.”
“That’s all right, old woman; the old man will understand how it is. We have come to make you independent.”
“Auld man! Auld woman! God forgie you for haein’ nae respeck for grey hairs. My guid man, sir, taks nae stock in ye or your fine words. Nicht and mornin’ does he pray for King George an’ that his throne may be preserved. You’re a set o’ land-loupers, wha hae nae business here an’ its my howp afore nicht you may be fleein’ back to whaur ye cam frae.”
“Canada folk are not all like you.”
“Ay, that they are. There’s no an’ Auld Country family from here to the Basin that winna gie you the back o’ their hand, an’ no ane that wadna suner lose a’ than come unner yer rule.”
Afraid that further controversy might result unpleasantly, Maggie left her attitude of listening outside the door and entered. One or two of the younger officers rose and bowed; the others stared.
“Oh, Maggie, I wish you had stayed where you were,” said her mother, “you have come into the lion’s den, for your father is no maister here.”