“My daughters are like mysel—na’ bonnie,” said Mrs. Waddel. “They dinna’ tak’ wi’ the men folk, wha look mair to comeliness than gudeness now-a-days in a wife. A’ weel, every dog maun ha’ his day, an’ they may get husbands yet.
“I weel remember, when Noncy was a bairn, she was the maist ugsome wee thing I ever clappit an e’e upon. My Leddy W. lodged in this verra room, in the which we are no’ sittin’. She had a daughter nearly a woman grown, an’ I was in my sma’ back parlour washin’ an’ dressin’ the bairn. In runs my Leddy Grace, an’ she stood an’ lookit an’ lookit a lang time at the naked bairn in my lap: at last she clappit her hands an’ she called oot to her mither—‘Mamma! Mamma! for gudeness sake, come here, an’ look at this ugly, blear-eyed, bandy-legget child!—I never saw sic an object in a’ my life!’
“It made my heart sair to hear her despise a creture made in God’s image in that way, an’ I bursted into tears, an’ said—’My leddy, yer a bad Christian to spier in that way o’ my puir bairn, an’ that in the hearin’ of its ain mither. May God forgive you! but you ha’ a hard heart.’ She was verra angry at my reproof, but my Leddy W. just then came in, an’ she said, with one of her ain gracious smiles—‘For shame! Grace; the bairn’s weel enough. Let us hope she maun prove a’ blessin’ to her parents. The straightest tree does na always bear the finest fruit.’
“I ha’ met wi’ mony crosses and sair trials in my day; but few o’ them made me shed bitterer tears than that proud, handsom’ young leddy’s speech on the deformity o’ my puir bairn.”
Flora stood reproved in her own eyes, for she knew she had regarded the poor ugly girls with feelings of repugnance, on account of their personal defects. Even Jim, careless and reckless though he was, possessed an excellent heart, and he looked grave, and turned to the window, and tried to hum a tune, to get rid of an unpleasant sensation about his throat, which Mrs. Waddel’s artless words had suddenly produced.
“Hang me!” he muttered half aloud, “if I ever laugh at the poor girls again!”
Mrs. Waddel had in common with most of her sex, a great predilection for going to auctions; and scarcely a day passed without her making some wonderful bargains. For a mere trifle she had bought a ’gude pot, only upon inspection it turned out to be miserably leaky. A nice palliasse, which on more intimate acquaintance proved alive with gentry with whom the most republican body would not wish to be on intimate terms. Jim was always joking the old lady upon her bargains, greatly to the edification of Betty Fraser, a black-eyed Highland girl, who was Mistress Waddel’s prime minister in the culinary department.
“Weel, Mister Jeames, jist ha’ yer laugh oot, but when ye get a glint o’ the bonnie table I bought this mornin’ for three an’ saxpence, ye’ll be noo’ makin’ game o’ me ony mair, I’m thinkin’. Betty, ye maun jist step ow’r the curb-stane to the broker’s, an’ bring hame the table.”
Away sped the nimble-footed Betty, and we soon heard the clattering of the table, as the leaves flapped to and fro as she lugged it up the public stairs.
“Now for the great bargain!” exclaimed the saucy Jim; “I think, Mrs. Waddel, I’ll buy it of you, as my venture to Canada.”