'
'It seems to me, Mr. Innes,' said MacGregor, 'that ye hae hit the
nail, but no upo' the heid. What mak' ye o' the phrase, no confined
to the Scots tongue, I believe, o' an eaves-drapper? The whilk, no
doobt, represents a body that hings aboot yer winnock, like a drap
hangin' ower abune it frae the eaves--therefore called an eaves
drapper. But the sort of whilk we noo speak, are a waur sort
a'thegither; for they come to the inside o' yer hoose, o' yer verra
chaumer, an' hing oot their lang lugs to hear what ye carena to be
hard save by a dooce frien' or twa ower a het tum'ler.'
At the same moment the door opened, and a man entered, who was
received with unusual welcome.
'Bless my sowl!' said the president, rising; 'it's Mr. Lammie!--Come
awa', Mr. Lammie. Sit doon; sit doon. Whaur hae ye been this mony
a day, like a pelican o' the wilderness?'
Mr. Lammie was a large, mild man, with florid cheeks, no whiskers,
and a prominent black eye. He was characterized by a certain simple
alacrity, a gentle, but outspeaking readiness, which made him a
favourite.
'I dinna richtly mak' oot wha ye are,' he answered. 'Ye hae unco
little licht here! Hoo are ye a', gentlemen? I s' discover ye by
degrees, and pay my respecks accordin'.'
And he drew a chair to the table.
''Deed I wuss ye wad,' returned MacGregor, in a voice pretentiously
hushed, but none the less audible. 'There's a drap in yon en' o' the
hoose, Mr.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56