After gazing at Robert for some time, she took a piece of oat-cake
from a plate by her side, the only luxury in which she indulged, for
it was made with cream instead of water--it was very little she ate
of anything--and held it out to Robert in a hand white, soft, and
smooth, but with square finger tips, and squat though pearly nails.
'Ha'e, Robert,' she said; and Robert received it with a 'Thank you,
grannie'; but when he thought she did not see him, slipped it under
the table and into his pocket. She saw him well enough, however,
and although she would not condescend to ask him why he put it away
instead of eating it, the endeavour to discover what could have been
his reason for so doing cost her two hours of sleep that night. She
would always be at the bottom of a thing if reflection could reach
it, but she generally declined taking the most ordinary measures to
expedite the process.
When Robert had finished his tea, instead of rising to get his books
and betake himself to his lessons, in regard to which his
grandmother had seldom any cause to complain, although she would
have considered herself guilty of high treason against the boy's
future if she had allowed herself once to acknowledge as much, he
drew his chair towards the fire, and said:
'Grandmamma!'
'He's gaein' to tell me something,' said Mrs. Falconer to herself.
'Will 't be aboot the puir barfut crater they ca' Shargar, or will
't be aboot the piece he pat intil 's pooch?'
'Weel, laddie?' she said aloud, willing to encourage him.
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