"I reckon," he added, "Oliver's son Richard will be Protector now." "A sairy carle, that same Richard," answered Wilson; "I wot th' young Charles 'ul soon come by his ain, and then ilka ane amang us 'ul see a bonnie war-day.

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.