When William saw James coming alang, as grave-like as frae a preaching, and thought on whaur he had been, he kent he wad laugh in his face downright if he met him, and that might anger Samson; sae he set aff by himsel an’ put by his spade. An’ when he saw him fairly in the house, an’ had his laugh out alane, he composed himsel, and walked into the kitchen as if naething had happened.
Chapter V.
Neist day the miller spoke to James anent his marriage, an’ tell’t him, as they were no to move frae the mill, it needna be putten aff ony langer; sae it was settled to be in a fortnight, an’ that created an unco bustle in the house. An’ Jeanie was every now and then speakin’ o’ how they were a’ to manage, but the miller ne’er seemed to mind her.
So ae day, when they’re in the kitchen by themsels, she begins on’t again: “An’ James an’ his wife will hae to get the room that he an’ William are in; an’ then William he maun either get mine, or sleep outby, for there’ll be nae puttin’ him in yon cauld, damp bed, unless we want him to gang like a cripple; sae I dinna ken what’s to be dune.”
“Ye forget, Jeanie,” said the miller, “that John Murdoch sleepit there, an’ he didna seem to be the waur o’t.”
“Aye, for ae night, nae doubt, and in fine weather; but how lang will that last?”
The miller gies her nae answer; but after sittin’ thinking a wee, he rises and taks down his bonnet.
“It’s a fine day for being out,” says Jeanie; “but are ye gaun far, father?”
“Nae farer than the Hope,” said the miller.
“The Hope!” exclaimed Jeanie, as her face reddened.