“Hech, my bairnie; but thae are wrang words, an’ fu’ o’ unchristian bitterness.”
“Oh, mother! drop your ‘hechs’ and your ‘fu’s.’ There are no Americans about this evening. It’s hard enough to talk the abominable gibberish when we have to, without keeping it up all the time. But, tell me, mother, couldn’t you smuggle in a little roast beef to-night, and let me eat in the cellar?” And a pleading look came into the young man’s eyes that was hard to resist.
“My bairn--I mean my boy, I’d like to, but I dare not. Maclaren’s inspectors are due here any minute, and I could ill afford to pay the heavy fine that would be levied if we were found with as English a thing as roast beef in the house. No, lad, we maun stick to parritch and haggis--I mean we must stick to oatmeal and haggis.”
Just then the sentry that was stationed at the outskirts of the village to warn the villagers of the approach of Americans gave the laugh of warning: “H-O! H-O! H-O!” And, with a bitter look on his face, and a shake of his fist in the direction of Loch Lomond, Ben Nevis, Ben Bolt, and various other bits of Scotch scenery that were scattered about, Hillocks Kilspindie said to his mother: “Weel, as surees deith a’ c’u’dna help it; tae be sittin’ on peens for mair than twa oors, tryin’ tae get a grup o’ a man’s heads. (I learned that this morning, mother. Isn’t it a looloo?)”
“(Indeed it is, my son. Look out! The Americans are almost within ear-shot.) Noo we’ve tae begin an’ keep it up till they gang awa, for there mauna be a cheep aboot the hoose, for Annie’s sake! Here they are.”
“Mither! Mither! if ye lo’e me bring me mair haggis.”
CHORUS OF AMERICANS. Oh, how adorably Scotch!
“Losh keep us a’, but the childie’ll eat his mither oot o’ hoose an’ hame wi’ his haggis. Ye’ll find some o’ it i’ the cupboard.”
AMERICAN (_politely to_ HILLOCKS). Have some haggis on me.
HILLOCKS (_with a canny Scotch leer_). Thanks; but I prefer a plate.
Ephrata Symonds was a knave. Of that there was no doubt. It stuck out all over him. His face was a chart of wickedness, and it was his open boast that he had never done any good in his life, and, please the devil, he never intended doing any. He had married early in life (in a fit of absent-mindedness), but he had long since forsaken his wife and children.