She told her poor friends that she had no money now, and could not help
them; but most were nearly as glad to see her as before; while one of
them who had never liked receiving alms from a girl in such a lowly
position, as well as some who had always taken them thankfully, loved
her better when she had nothing to give.
She renewed her acquaintance with Peter Whaup, the blacksmith, through
his wife, who was ill, and received her visits gladly.
"For," she said, "she's a fine douce lass, and speyks to ye as gin ye
war ither fowk, and no as gin she kent a'thing, and cam to tell ye the
muckle half o' 't."
I wonder how much her friends understood of what she read to them? She
did not confine herself to the Bible, which indeed she was a little shy
of reading except they wanted it, but read anything that pleased
herself, never doubting that "ither fowk" could enjoy what she enjoyed.
She even tried the _Paradise Lost_ upon Mrs Whaup, as she had tried it
long ago upon Tibbie Dyster; and Mrs Whaup never seemed tired of
listening to it. I daresay she understood about as much of it as poets
do of the celestial harmonies ever toning around them.
And Peter Whaup was once known, when more than half drunk, to stop his
swearing in mid-volley, simply because he had caught a glimpse of Annie
at the other end of the street.
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