"
As she spoke, the hawk eyes of Miss Horn glowed on each side of
her hawk nose, which grew more and more hooked as she glared, while
her neck went craning forward as if she were on the point of making
a swoop on the offender. Mrs Mellis's voice trembled with something
like fear as she replied:
"Gude guide 's, Miss Horn! What hae I said to gar ye look at me
sae by ordinar 's that?"
"Said!" repeated Miss Horn, in a tone that revealed both annoyance
with herself and contempt for her visitor. "There's no a claver in
a' the countryside but ye maun fess 't hame aneth yer oxter, as
gin 't were the prodigal afore he repentit. Ye's get sma thanks for
sic like here. An' her lyin' there as she'll lie till the jeedgment
day, puir thing!"
"I'm sure I meant no offence, Miss Horn," said her visitor. "I
thocht a' body kent 'at she was ill about him."
"Aboot wha, i' the name o' the father o' lees?"
"Ow, aboot that lang leggit doctor 'at set oat for the Ingies, an'
dee'd afore he wan across the equautor. Only fouk said he was nae
mair deid nor a halvert worm, an' wad be hame whan she was merried."
"It's a' lees frae heid to fiit, an' frae bert to skin."
"Weel, it was plain to see she dwyned awa efter he gaed, an' never
was hersel' again--ye dinna deny that?"
"It's a' havers," persisted Miss Horn, but in accents considerably
softened. "She cared na mair aboot the chield nor I did mysel'.
She dwyned, I grant ye, an' he gaed awa, I grant ye; but the win'
blaws an' the water rins, an the tane has little to du wi' the
tither.
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