Sae after supper they fell to the strong yill, and to crackin’, and the miller took his share in’t, but nane o’ his family said onything maist; but they couldna keep their een aff John Murdoch when he was lookin’ at their father, though they found that they couldna look him steady in the face when he turned to them, just frae something in his ee, they couldna tell what.
“And it’s a bonnie place this o’ yours, miller,” said John Murdoch; “and nae doubt you and your folk afore ye hae been a gey while in’t.”
“’Deed hae we,” said the miller, a wee gravely, “and, as ye say, it’s a gey bonnie bit place.”
John Murdoch was gaun to ask something mair about it, but he stopped on getting a particular look frae Jeanie, and changed the subject; but the miller noticed it, and guessing the reason, said to John Murdoch, “Ye see, frien’, that me and my forefathers hae had this place for about twa hunder years, and we’re sweert to leave’t, and my bairns ken that, and dinna like to speak o’t.”
“And what’s makin’ ye leave’t?” says John Murdoch; “that’s to say, if its no ony secret.”
“Ou, nane ava,” says the miller; “it’s just this, ye see: its owner thinks that it’s worth mair rent, and maybe he counts on our gien him mair than the value o’t rather than gang awa, sae he’s just put the double on’t, and gang we maun; for to stay here at that rate, would just rin awa wi’ the wee thing I hae laid by for my bairns, which I would be sweert to see. It’s no very muckle, to be sure; but I can say this, John Murdoch, that it wasna gotten either by cheating or idleness. However, we needna weary you wi’ our concerns, sae come, we’s drink King James, and lang life to him.”
“Wi’ a’ my heart, miller,” quoth John Murdoch. “And nae doubt ye’ll a’ be gaun to the sports that’s sune to be hauden at Stirling; they say there’ll be grand fun, and I was just thinking that your auld son there wadna hae a bad chance o’ winning at puttin’ the stane, or flinging the mell.”
“And I ken,” cried Jeanie, “wha wad hae some chance at the race, gif there’s to be ane.”
“Dinna brag, bairns,” said the miller, “and then, if ye’re waured, there’s naething to be ashamed o’; but whether we gang there or no, time will show; in the meantime, Jeanie, bring anither bottle o’ strong yill.”
“Miller,” quoth John Murdoch, “ken ye what hour it’s?”