drawn his breath, cried jeeringly:
"Ye're wishin' you were me, ye auld faggot. Ay, I can see from the greedy look about you that you wish this was goin' into your belly and not mine. Well, take it from me, in case ye don't know, it's a great blend o' whisky, the sugar is just to taste and the water is right because there's not too much o't." He laughed uproariously at his own wit, causing Nessie to look up with a scared expression, but catching his glance, she immediately lowered hers as he exclaimed:
"On with the work, ye young limmer! What are ye wastin' your time for? Am I payin' for your education for you to sit gogglin’ at folks when you should be at your books."
Turning to his mother again, he shook his head solemnly, continuing volubly, "I must keep her at it! That's the only way to correct the touch o' her mother's laziness that's in her. But trust me! I'll make her a scholar in spite of it. The brains are there." He took another pull at his glass and sucked noisily at his pipe.
The old woman returned his glance sourly, dividing her gaze between his flushed face and the whisky in his hand as she remarked:
"Where is that where is she gane to-night?"
He stared at her for a moment then guffawed loudly. "Ye mean Nancy, ve auld witch. Has she put a spell on you too, that you're feared even to lift her name?" Then after a pause, during which he assumed a leering gravity, he continued, "Well, I hardly like to tell ye, but if ye must know, she's awa' to the Band of Hope meetin'.”
She followed the vehemence of his mirth, as he shook with laughter, with an unsympathetic eye, and replied as tartly as she dared:
"I don't see much to laugh about. If she had gone to the Band o' Hope when she was younger she might have " she stopped, feeling his eye upon her, thinking that she had gone too far.
"Go ahead," he gibed; "finish what ye were sayin'. Let us all have our characters when you're about it. There's no pleasin' some folk. Ye werna satisfied with Mamma, and now ye're startin' to pick holes in my Nancy. I suppose ye think you could keep the house yoursel' that maybe ye might get an odd pingle at the bottle that way. Faugh! The last time ye cooked my dinner for me ye nearly poisoned me." He considered her amusedly from his elevated position, thinking of how he might best take her down a peg.
Suddenly a wildly humorous idea struck him, which, in its sardonic richness, made him slap his thigh delightedly. She was grudging him his drink was she, eyeing it as a cat would a saucer of cream, gasping for it, ready to lap it up at the first opportunity. She should have it then, she who was so quick to run down other people! By Gad! She should have it. He would make her full, yes, full as a whelk. He realised that he had plenty of whisky in the house, that in any case it would take very little to go to the old woman's head, and as some foretaste of the drollery of his diversion invaded him, he rocked with suppressed hilarity and smote his leg again exuberantly. Losh! But he was a card!
Then all at once he cut off his laughter, composed his features and, narrowing his small eyes slyly, remarked cunningly:
"Ah! It seems hardly fair o' me to have spoken to ye like that, woman. I can see it's put ye right down. You're lookin' quite daunted. Here! Would ye like a drop speerits to pull ye together?" Then, as she looked up quickly, suspiciously, he nodded his head largely and continued, "Ay. I mean it. I'm quite serious. What way should I have it an no' you? Away and get yoursel' a glass."
Her dull eye lighted with eagerness, but knowing his ironic tongue too well, she still doubted him, was afraid to move for fear a burst of his derisive laughter should disillusion her, and moistening her lips with her tongue she exclaimed in a tremulous voice:
"You're not just makin' fun o' me, are ye?"
Again he shook his head, this time negatively, vigorously, and reaching down to the bottle conveniently beside his chair he held it out enticingly before her.
"Look! Teacher's Highland Dew. Quick! Away and get yoursel' a tumbler!"
She started to her feet eagerly, as though she were beginning a race, and made her way to the scullery, trembling at the thought of her luck, she who had not lipped a drop since the day of the funeral and then only wine, not the real, comforting liquor. She was back, holding out the glass, almost before he had controlled the fresh burst of amusement which her avid, tottering progress had afforded him; but as he poured her out a generous allowance, he remarked in a steady, solicitous voice:
"An old body like yersel' needs a drop now and then. See, I'm givin' you plenty and don't take much water with it."
"Oh, no, James," she protested. "Don't give me ower much. You know I'm not fond o' much o't just a wee drappie to keep out the cold."
At her last words a sudden memory cut across his jocularity like a whip lash and he snarled at her:
"Don't use these words to me! It minds me too much of somebody I'm not exactly fond of. Why do ye speak like a soft and mealy-mouthed hypocrite?" He glowered at her while she drank her whisky quickly, for fepr he should take it from her; then, urged by a more vindictive spirit, he cried out, "Come on. Here's some more. Glass about."
"Na! Na!" she exclaimed mildly. "I've had enough. It's warmed me nicely and gie'n my mouth a bit flavour. Thenk ye all the same, but I'll no' have any more."
"Ye’re not say no to me." he shouted roughly. "What are ye to refuse good spirits? Ye asked for it and you'll have it, even if I've to pour it down your auld thrapple. Hold out your glass; we'll drink fair."
Wonder ingly she submitted, and when he had given her another liberal helping, she drank it more slowly, appreciatively, smacking her lips and rolling it over her tongue, murmuring between her sips,
"It's the real stuff, richt enough. It's unco kind o' ye, James, to spare me this. I've never had so much afore. Troth. I'm not used to it." She was silent whilst the liquid in her glass dwindled, then all at once she burst out, "It's got a graund tang on your tongue has it no? 'Deed it almost makes me feel young again." She tittered slightly. "I was just thinkin' " she tittered more loudly.
At the sound of her levity he smiled darkly.
"Yes," he drawled, "and what were ye thinkin', auld woman? Tell us so that we can enjoy the joke."
She snickered the more at his words, and covering her wrinkled face with her knotted hands, abandoned herself to a delicious, inward humour until at last she coyly unveiled one senile, maudlin eye and whispered brokenly: