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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

Na, na.'
'But I will give you the money if you like.'
'Na, na. You hae dune eneuch already, an' mony thanks. Siller's no
sae easy come by to be wastit, as lang's a darn 'll do. Forbye, gin
ye began wi' his claes, ye wadna ken whaur to haud; for it wad jist
be the new claith upo' the auld garment: ye micht as weel new cleed
him at ance.'
'And why not if I choose, Mr. Falconer?'
'Speir ye that at him, an' see what ye'll get--a luik 'at wad fess a
corbie (carrion crow) frae the lift (sky). I wadna hae ye try that.
Some fowk's poverty maun be han'let jist like a sair place, doctor.
He canna weel compleen o' a bit darnin'.--He canna tak that ill,'
repeated Robert, in a tone that showed he yet felt some anxiety on
the subject; 'but new anes! I wadna like to be by whan he fand that
oot. Maybe he micht tak them frae a wuman; but frae a man
body!--na, na; I maun jist darn awa'. But I'll mak them dacent
eneuch afore I hae dune wi' them. A fiddler has fingers.'
The doctor smiled a pleased smile; but when he got into his
carriage, again he laughed heartily.
The evening deepened into night. Robert thought Ericson was asleep.
But he spoke.
'Who is that at the street door?' he said.
They were at the top of the house, and there was no window to the
street. But Ericson's senses were preternaturally acute, as is
often the case in such illnesses.
'I dinna hear onybody,' answered Robert.
'There was somebody,' returned Ericson.


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