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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

She's
been unco dowie (ailing) a' the summer; and sae has the bairnie.'
'Ye maun hae had a sair time o' 't, than.'
'Ay, some. But I aye got some sleep. I jist tuik the towie
(string) into the bed wi' me, and whan the bairnie grat, I waukit,
an' rockit it till 't fell asleep again. But whiles naething wad du
but tak him till 's mammie.'
All the time she was hushing and fondling the child, who went on
fretting when not actually crying.
'Is he yer brither, than?' asked Robert.
'Ay, what ither? I maun tak him, I see. But ye can sit there as
lang 's ye like; and gin ye gang afore I come back, jist turn the
key 'i the door to lat onybody ken that there's naebody i' the
hoose.'
Robert thanked her, and remained in the shadow by the chimney, which
was formed of two smoke-browned planks fastened up the wall, one on
each side, and an inverted wooden funnel above to conduct the smoke
through the roof. He sat for some time gloomily gazing at a spot of
sunlight which burned on the brown clay floor. All was still as
death. And he felt the white-washed walls even more desolate than
if they had been smoke-begrimed.
Looking about him, he found over his head something which he did not
understand. It was as big as the stump of a great tree. Apparently
it belonged to the structure of the cottage, but he could not, in
the imperfect light, and the dazzling of the sun-spot at which he
had been staring, make out what it was, or how it came to be up
there--unsupported as far as he could see.


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