But lat the watch sit:
whaur's the wife? Ye canna be a man yet wantin' the wife--by yer
ain statement.'
'The watch cam unsoucht, Mr. MacGregor, an' I'm thinkin' sae maun
the wife,' answered Robert, laughing.
'Preserve me for ane frae a wife that comes unsoucht,' returned the
weaver. 'But, my lad, there may be some wives that winna come whan
they are soucht. Preserve me frae them too!--Noo, maybe ye dinna
ken what I mean--but tak ye tent what ye're aboot. Dinna ye think
'at ilka bonnie lass 'at may like to haud a wark wi' ye 's jist
ready to mairry ye aff han' whan ye say, "Noo, my dawtie."--An' ae
word mair, Robert: Young men, especially braw lads like yersel', 's
unco ready to fa' in love wi' women fit to be their mithers. An'
sae ye see--'
He was interrupted by the entrance of a girl. She had a shawl over
her head, notwithstanding it was summer weather, and crept in
hesitatingly, as if she were not quite at one with herself as to her
coming purchase. Approaching a boy behind the counter on the
opposite side of the shop, she asked for something, and he proceeded
to serve her. Robert could not help thinking, from the one glimpse
of her face he had got through the dusk, that he had seen her
before. Suddenly the vision of an earthen floor with a pool of
brown sunlight upon it, bare feet, brown hair, and soft eyes,
mingled with a musk odour wafted from Arabian fairyland, rose before
him: it was Jessie Hewson.
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