At that moment there was a noisy rush past the window, and certain ferocious yells came in at the door.
"Preserve me," said Mistress Fraser, "thae bairns are never hame frae the schule already! Faith, I maun awa' hame, or my evil loons and limmers will no leave a bite o' bread uneaten, or a dish o' last year's jam unsupped in a' my hoose!"
But as she rose to go her husband's form darkened the doorway.
"Tam Fraser," she cried, "what are ye doing there? Are ye no awa' at Auld Graham's funeral? A lawyer deid! The deil will dee next."
"I hae nae blacks guid enough to gang in," said Tam Fraser; "ye spend a' my leevin' on thae bairns o' yours."
"Hoot, man," retorted his wife, "gang as ye are, an' tak' your character on your back, and ye'll be black eneuch for ony funeral."
Tam Fraser stood a moment prospecting in his mind for a suitable reply.
"Meg," he said at last, "dinna learn to be ill-tongued. It doesna become ye. D'ye ken, I was juist thinkin' as I cam' in that ye grow younger every year. Ye are looking fell bonny the day!"
"Faith," said his wife sharply, "I am vexed I canna return the compliment. Ye are lookin' juist like a craw-bogle, and that's a Guid's truth."
"Aweel, guidwife," said Tam, seeing a chance now to get in his counter, "if ye had only been ceevil eneuch, ye micht e'en hae telled a lee as weel as mysel'!"