It had taken a long time to attend to all these matters, and it
was now late in the autumn.
"You must not stand out in the rain, Mrs. McLeish," said one of the men,
and he urged her to come back into the hut. He said he would build a fire
for her, and she and the gentleman from Edinburgh could sit down and talk
over matters. No doubt there would be some money in hand, he said, out of
which the rent could be paid, and, even if this should not be the case,
he knew the landlord would be willing to wait a little under the
circumstances.
"Is there money in hand for me?" asked the old woman.
"Yes," said the traveller. "The annuity was to begin with October, and it
is now the first of November, so there is eight pounds due to you."
"Eight pounds!" she exclaimed, after a moment's thought. "It must be more
than that. There's thirty-one days in October!"
"That's all right, Mrs. McLeish," said the traveller. "I will pay you the
right amount. But I really think you had better come into your house, for
it is going to be a bad afternoon, and I must get away as soon as I can.
I will go, as I came, in the cart, for you won't want it now."
Mrs. McLeish stood up as straight as she could, and glanced from the
traveller to the two men who had put her out of her home. Then, in the
strongest terms her native Gaelic would afford, she addressed these two
men. She assured them that, sooner than enter that contemptible little
hut again, she would sleep out on the bare moor.
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