Robert Falconer | Page 7

the street, where he could see part of the other street which
crossed it at right angles, and in which the gable of the house stood. A
minute after, the mail came in sight--scarlet, spotted with snow--and
disappeared, going up the hill towards the chief hostelry of the town, as
fast as four horses, tired with the bad footing they had had through the
whole of the stage, could draw it after them. By this time the twilight
was falling; for though the sun had not yet set, miles of frozen vapour
came between him and this part of the world, and his light was never
very powerful so far north at this season of the year.
Robert turned into the kitchen, and began to put on his shoes. He had
made up his mind what to do.
'Ye're never gaein' oot, Robert?' said Betty, in a hoarse tone of
expostulation.
''Deed am I, Betty. What for no?'

'You 'at's been in a' day wi' a sair heid! I'll jist gang benn the hoose and
tell the mistress, and syne we'll see what she'll please to say till 't.'
'Ye'll do naething o' the kin', Betty. Are ye gaein' to turn clash-pyet
(tell-tale) at your age?'
'What ken ye aboot my age? There's never a man-body i' the toon kens
aught aboot my age.'
'It's ower muckle for onybody to min' upo' (remember), is 't, Betty?'
'Dinna be ill-tongued, Robert, or I'll jist gang benn the hoose to the
mistress.'
'Betty, wha began wi' bein' ill-tongued? Gin ye tell my grandmither that
I gaed oot the nicht, I'll gang to the schuilmaister o' Muckledrum, and
get a sicht o' the kirstenin' buik; an' gin yer name binna there, I'll tell
ilkabody I meet 'at oor Betty was never kirstened; and that'll be a sair
affront, Betty.'
'Hoot! was there ever sic a laddie!' said Betty, attempting to laugh it off.
'Be sure ye be back afore tay-time, 'cause yer grannie 'ill be speirin'
efter ye, and ye wadna hae me lee aboot ye?'
'I wad hae naebody lee about me. Ye jist needna lat on 'at ye hear her.
Ye can be deif eneuch when ye like, Betty. But I s' be back afore
tay-time, or come on the waur.'
Betty, who was in far greater fear of her age being discovered than of
being unchristianized in the search, though the fact was that she knew
nothing certain about the matter, and had no desire to be enlightened,
feeling as if she was thus left at liberty to hint what she pleased,--Betty,
I say, never had any intention of going 'benn the hoose to the mistress.'
For the threat was merely the rod of terror which she thought it
convenient to hold over the back of the boy, whom she always
supposed to be about some mischief except he were in her own
presence and visibly reading a book: if he were reading aloud, so much
the better. But Robert likewise kept a rod for his defence, and that was

Betty's age, which he had discovered to be such a precious secret that
one would have thought her virtue depended in some cabalistic manner
upon the concealment of it. And, certainly, nature herself seemed to
favour Betty's weakness, casting such a mist about the number of her
years as the goddesses of old were wont to cast about a wounded
favourite; for some said Betty was forty, others said she was sixty-five,
and, in fact, almost everybody who knew her had a different belief on
the matter.
By this time Robert had conquered the difficulty of induing boots as
hard as a thorough wetting and as thorough a drying could make them,
and now stood prepared to go. His object in setting out was to find the
boy whom his grandmother had driven from the door with a hastier and
more abject flight than she had in the least intended. But, if his
grandmother should miss him, as Betty suggested, and inquire where he
had been, what was he to say? He did not mind misleading his grannie,
but he had a great objection to telling her a lie. His grandmother herself
delivered him from this difficulty.
'Robert, come here,' she called from the parlour door. And Robert
obeyed.
'Is 't dingin' on, Robert?' she asked.
'No, grannie; it's only a starnie o' drift.'
The meaning of this was that there was no fresh snow falling, or
beating on, only a little surface snow blowing about.
'Weel, jist pit yer shune on, man, and rin up to Miss Naper's upo' the
Squaur, and say to Miss Naper, wi' my compliments, that I wad be sair
obleeged till her gin she wad len' me that fine receipt o' hers for crappit
heids, and