'Humph!' returned the old lady, her face becoming stony with the
effort to suppress all emotion. 'Nae aboot Anerew?'
''Deed is 't, mem. An' ill news, I'm sorry to say.'
'Is he ta'en?'
'Ay is he--by a jyler that winna tyne the grup.'
'He's no deid, John Lammie? Dinna say 't.'
'I maun say 't, Mrs. Faukner. I had it frae Dr. Anderson, yer ain
cousin. He hintit at it afore, but his last letter leaves nae room
to doobt upo' the subjeck. I'm unco sorry to be the beirer o' sic
ill news, Mrs. Faukner, but I had nae chice.'
'Ohone! Ohone! the day o' grace is by at last! My puir Anerew!'
exclaimed Mrs. Falconer, and sat dumb thereafter.
Mr. Lammie tried to comfort her with some of the usual comfortless
commonplaces. She neither wept nor replied, but sat with stony face
staring into her lap, till, seeing that she was as one that heareth
not, he rose and left her alone with her grief. A few minutes after
he was gone, she rang the bell, and told Betty in her usual voice to
send Robert to her.
'He's gane to the schule, mem.'
'Rin efter him, an' tell him to come hame.'
When Robert appeared, wondering what his grandmother could want with
him, she said:
'Close the door, Robert. I canna lat ye gang to the schule the day.
We maun lea' him oot noo.'
'Lea' wha oot, grannie?'
'Him, him--Anerew. Yer father, laddie. I think my hert 'll brak.'
'Lea' him oot o' what, grannie? I dinna unnerstan' ye.
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