After
about three months a second application was made, according to legal
form; and in the month of May a third arrived, with the hint from the
lawyer that his client was now prepared to proceed to extremities;
whereupon she felt for the first time that she must do something.
She sent for James Dow.
"Are you going to the market to-day, James?" she asked.
"'Deed am I, mem."
"Well, be sure and go into one of the tents, and have a good dinner."
"'Deed, mem, I'll do naething o' the sort. It's a sin and a shame to
waste gude siller upo' broth an' beef. I'll jist pit a piece
(of oatcake) in my pooch, and that'll fess me hame as well's a' their
kail. I can bide onything but wastrie."
"It's very foolish of you, James."
"It's yer pleesur to say sae, mem."
"Well, tell me what to do about that."
And she handed him the letter.
James took it and read it slowly. Then he stared at his mistress. Then
he read it again. At length, with a bewildered look, he said,
"Gin ye awe the siller, ye maun pay't, mem."
"But I can't."
"The Lord preserve's! What's to be dune? _I_ hae bit thirty poun'
hained (saved) up i' my kist. That wadna gang far."
"No, no, James," returned his mistress.
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