We've playt at shinty lang eneugh. Braw news,
man--braw news that the corbie's deid."
Wilson had never before been heard to say so much or to speak so
vehemently. He got up from the table in his nervousness, and walked
aimlessly across the floor.
"Why are you poapan about," asked Angus, in amazement; "snowkin like a
pig at a sow?"
At this the sinister light in Wilson's eyes that had been held in
check hitherto seemed at once to flash out, and he turned hotly upon
his master, as though to retort sneer for sneer. But, checking
himself, he took up his bonnet and made for the door.
"Don't look at me like that," Angus called after him, "or, maybe I'll
clash the door in thy face."
Wilson had gone by this time, and turning to his sons, Angus
continued,--
"Did you see how the waistrel snirpt up his nose when the pedler said
Cromwell was dead?"
It was obvious that something more was soon to be made known relative
to their farm servant. The pedler had no difficulty in coming to the
conclusion that Wilson was some secret spy, some disguised enemy of
the Commonwealth, and perhaps some Fifth Monarchy man, and a rank
Papist to boot.
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