"Gie's a han' up wi't, Alec," he said.
And in a moment more Curly was off to Widow Lapp with his bag of
firing.
"He's a fine chield that Willie o' yours, George," said Alec to the
father. "He only wants to hae a thing weel pitten afore him, an' he
jist acts upo' 't direckly.
"It's weel he maks a cronie o' you, Alec. There's a heap o' mischeef in
him. Whaur's he aff wi thae spells?"
Alec told the story, much to the satisfaction of George, who could
appreciate the repentance of his son; although he was "nane o' the unco
guid" himself. From that day he thought more of his son, and of Alec as
well.
"Noo, Curly," said Alec, as soon as he re-appeared with the empty sack,
"yer father's gaein to lat me big a boat, an' ye maun help me."
"What's the use o' a boat i' this weather?" said Curly.
"Ye gomeril!" returned his father; ye never luik an inch afore the pint
o' yer ain neb. Ye wadna think o' a boat afore the spring; an' haith!
the summer wad be ower, an' the water frozen again, afore ye had it
biggit. Luik at Alec there. He's worth ten o' you.
"I ken that ilka bit as weel's ye do, father. Jist set's aff wi' 't,
father."
"I canna attend till't jist i' the noo; but I s' set ye aff wi' 't the
morn's nicht.
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