"Wha can say what ghaists may be efter, laddie! But, troth to tell,
whan ye see live fowk sae gien ower to the boady,'at they're never
happy but whan they're aitin' or drinkin' or sic like--an' the auld
captain was seldom throu' wi' his glaiss,'at he wasna cryin' for
the whisky or the het watter for the neist--whan the boady's the
best half o' them, like, an' they maun aye be duin' something wi'
't, ye needna won'er 'at the ghaist o' ane sic like sud fin'
himsel' geyan eerie an' lonesome like, wantin' his seck to fill,
an' sae try to win back to hae a luik hoo it was weirin'."
"But he gaed na to the corp," Cosmo insisted.
"'Cause he wasna alloot," said Grannie. "He wad hae been intil't
again in a moment, ye may be certain, gien it had been in his
pooer. But the deevils cudna gang intil the swine wantin' leave."
"Ay, I see," said Cosmo.
"But jist ye speir at yer new maister," Grannie went on, "what he
thinks aboot it, for I ance h'ard him speyk richt wise words to my
gudeson, James Gracie, anent sic things. I min' weel 'at he said
the only thing 'at made agen the viouw I tiuk--though I spakna o'
the partic'lar occasion--was,'at naebody ever h'ard tell o' the
ghaist o' an alderman, wha they say's some grit Lon'on man, sair
gien to the fillin' o' the seck."
CHAPTER XIII.
THE STORM-GUEST.
Again a deep silence descended on the room. The twilight had long
fallen, and settled down into the dark.
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