“What gart ye speir than? What for sud a body come screwin’ up a straucht stair—noo the face an’ noo the back o’ her?”
“Weel, I nott (needed) na hae speirt. But that’s naething to the p’int.—Ye hadna been gane, as I was saying’, ower a five meenutes, whan in cam a licht intill the bedroom neist the parlour, an’ Jean appeart wi’ a can’le in her han’. There was nae licht i’ this room but the licht o’ the fire, an’ no muckle o’ that, for ’twas maistly peat, sae I saw her weel eneuch ohn been seen mysel’. She cam straucht to the window, and drew doon the blind, but lost hersel’ a bit or she wad never hae set doon her can’le whaur it cuist a shaidow o’ hersel’ an’ her doin’s upo’ the blind.”
“An’ what was ’t she was efter, the jaud?” cried Miss Horn, without any attempt to conceal her growing interest.
“She made naething o’ ’t, whatever it was; for doon the street cam the schuilmaister, an’ chappit at the door, an gaed in an’ waitit till ye cam hame.”
“Weel!?” said Miss Horn.
But Mrs Mellis held her peace.
“Weel!!?” repeated Miss Horn.
“Weel,” returned Mrs Mellis, with a curious mixture of deference and conscious sagacity in her tone, “a’ ’at I tak upo’ me to say is—Think ye twise afore ye lippen to that Jean o’ yours.”
“I lippen naething till her! I wad as sune lippen to the dottle o’ a pipe amo’ dry strae. What saw ye, Mistress Mellis?”
“Ye needna speyk like that,” returned Mrs Mellis, for Miss Horn’s tone was threatening: “I’m no Jean.”