A heap o' pains I took that I micht never hae
to say _I dinna ken_ to sic a gleg-ee'd cratur as that. And ilka day
she cam to read wi' me, and we jist got on like a mail-coach--at least
I did--only the wrang road. An' she cam aye i' the efternoon and bade
till the gloamin' cam doon an' it grew ower mirk to ken the words frae
ane anither. And syne she wad gang and dress hersel' for denner, as she
said.
"Ye may say I was a muckle gowk. And ye may lauch at a bairn for
greitin' efter the mune; but I doot that same avarice o' the wee man
comes frae a something in him that he wad be ill aff wi'oot. Better
greit for the mune than no be cawpable o' greetin' for the mune. And
weel I wat, I grat for the mune, or a' was dune, and didna get it, ony
mair than the lave o' my greedy wee brithers."
The night had gathered thick about them. And for a few moments out of
the darkness came no sound. At length Mr Cupples resumed:
"I maun jist confess, cauf that I was--and yet I wad hae been a greater
cauf gin it hadna been sae--I cud hae lickit the verra dist aff o' the
flure whaur her fit had been. Man, I never saw onything like her, The
hypostasis o' her was jist perfection itsel'.
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