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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

After his
interview with his patient was over, the doctor signed to him to
follow him to the next room. There Shargar lay on the rug already
snoring. It was a cold night in December, but he lay in his
under-clothing, with a single blanket round him.
'Good training for a soldier,' said the doctor; 'and so was your
work a minute ago, Robert.'
'Ay,' answered Robert, colouring a little; 'I was readin' a bit o'
the Anabasis.'
The doctor smiled a far-off sly smile.
'I think it was rather the Katabasis, if one might venture to judge
from the direction of your labours.'
'Weel,' answered Robert, 'what wad ye hae me do? Wad ye hae me lat
Mr. Ericson gang wi' holes i' the heels o' 's hose, whan I can mak
them a' snod, an' learn my Greek at the same time? Hoots, doctor!
dinna lauch at me. I was doin' nae ill. A body may please
themsel's--whiles surely, ohn sinned.'
'But it's such waste of time! Why don't you buy him new ones?'
''Deed that's easier said than dune. I hae eneuch ado wi' my siller
as 'tis; an' gin it warna for you, doctor, I do not ken what wad
come o' 's; for ye see I hae no richt to come upo' my grannie for
ither fowk. There wad be nae en' to that.'
'But I could lend you the money to buy him some stockings.'
'An' whan wad I be able to pay ye, do ye think, doctor? In anither
warl' maybe, whaur the currency micht be sae different there wad be
no possibility o' reckonin' the rate o' exchange.


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