It's no' what I call cannel." "Well, well, Davie, it blazes finely at any rate," said Mr.Rae, determined to be cheerful, and rubbing his hands before the blazing coal.
"Ay, it bleezes," grumbled Davie, "when it's no' smootherin'." "Come then, Davie, that will do.

Clear out," said Mr.Rae to the old servant, who was cleaning up the hearth with great diligence and care.
But Davie was not to be hurried.

He had his regular routine in fire-mending, from which no power could move him.

"Ay, Sir," he muttered, brushing away with his feather besom.

"I'll clear oot when I clear up.