"
"The wuman's no worth yer notice, 'cep to haud oot o' her gait,
laddie; an' that ye had better luik till, for she's no canny. Dinna
ye anger her again gien ye can help it. She has an ill luik, an' I
canna bide her.--Hae, there's yer siller. Jean, tak in this fish."
During the latter part of the conversation they had been standing
at the door, while Miss Horn ferreted the needful pence from a
pocket under her gown. She now entered, but as Malcolm waited for
Jean to take the fish, she turned on the threshold, and said:
"Wad ye no like to see her, Ma'colm?--A guid frien' she was to
you, sae lang's she was here," she added after a short pause.
The youth hesitated.
"I never saw a corp i' my life, mem, an' I'm jist some feared," he
said, after another brief silence.
"Hoot, laddie!" returned Miss Horn, in a somewhat offended tone.
--"That'll be what comes o' haein' feelin's. A bonny corp 's the
bonniest thing in creation,--an' that quaiet!--Eh! sic a heap
o' them as there has been sin' Awbel," she went on--"an ilk ane
them luikin, as gien there never had been anither but itsel'! Ye
oucht to see a corp, Ma'colm. Ye'll hae't to du afore ye're ane
yersel', an' ye'll never see a bonnier nor my Grizel."
"Be 't to yer wull, mem," said Malcolm resignedly.
At once she led the way, and he followed her in silence up the
stair and into the dead chamber.
There on the white bed lay the long, black, misshapen thing she had
called "the bit boxie:" and with a strange sinking at the heart,
Malcolm approached it.
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