tryin’ to mak’ her market in anither wye wi’ her cousin Jen’s
siller.’
“ But, Miss Spreull, I really did not ettle to tell ye what this ill-set wumman said.”
“ Dinna fear,” quoth I, “ for I’m real interestit.”
“ ‘ Oh/ says she, ‘ having failed to get a man when her hoose wis fu’ o’ them, noo that she has siller, she has opened a bursary ’—an’ if ye’d seen hoo she lookit when she said this—‘ a bursary—bed, board, an’ washin’—in her ain hoose, mind ye; an’ she thinks that, havin’ the puir boarder a’ to hersel’, she ’ll couter him up till he offers himsel’ as her guidman. Div ye no see her dodge ? ’
‘ Weel/ quoth I, ‘ Miss Spreull has aye been real decent wi’ me, and I hinna an ill word to say against her.’ ‘ Ay, but ye maunna tell her,’ says she, ‘ for the truth is sometimes sair to bide.’
‘ Oh,’ says I, kind o’ tairtish, ‘ ye needna fear, for, to tell the truth, I never wis given to clyping a’ my days; but there’s somebody i’ the shop, an’ when the laddie comes in I ’ll send yer cookies hame.’
“ That wis just the wye I spoke till ’er.” Weel, ye may suppose, I wis mortal affrontit when I heard sic a scandaleesin’ story. I never had a great opeenion o’ Mrs. Whangy. In truth, we never were great freens; but she wis aye fair to my face, an’ I couldna jaloose the deceitfu’ duchess wud have evened sic a thing to me.
But the interesting pairt o’ the story is yet to come. The king aye fa’s i’ the cadger’s gate somehoo. I do believe my auld neebor, Mrs. Warnock, had barely time to clear the corner o’ the street, when, wha should come into my hoose but this same twa-faced tairge, Mrs. Whangy! It wis past mortal reason and sense to believe that this wumman should ever dare
