There canna be muckle ill dune yet--that's a comfort!"
"What ill, by (beyond) meddlin' wi' what doesna concern her, cud
the wuman du?" said Miss Horn, with attempted confidence.
"That ye sud ken best yersel', mem. But Jean's an awfu' gossip,
an' a lady like yer cousin micht hae left dockiments ahint her 'at
she wadna jist like to hear procleemt frae the hoose tap. No 'at
she 'll ever hear onything mair, puir thing!"
"What mean ye?" cried Miss Horn, half frightened, half angry.
"Jist what I say--neither mair nor less," returned Mrs Mellis.
"Miss Cam'ell may weel hae left letters for enstance, an' hoo wad
they fare in Jean's han's?"
"Whan I never had the hert to open her drawers!" exclaimed Miss
Horn, enraged at the very notion of the crime. "I hae nae feelin's,
thank God for the furnishin' o' me!"
"I doobt Jean has her full share o' a' feelin's belangin' to fallen
human natur'," said Mrs Mellis, with a slow horizontal oscillation
of the head. "But ye jist come an' see wi' yer ain een, an' syne
jeedge for yersel': it 's nae business o' mine."
"I'll come the nicht, Mrs Mellis. Only lat it be atween 's twa."
"I can haud my tongue, mem,--that is, frae a' but ane. Sae lang
's merried fowk sleeps in ae bed, it 's ill to haud onything till
a body's sel'."
"Mr Mellis is a douce man, an' I carena what he kens." answered
Miss Horn.
She descended to the shop, and having bought bulk enough to account
to Jean for her lengthened stay, for she had beyond a doubt been
watching the door of the shop, she crossed the street, went up to
her parlour, and rang the bell.
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