[The Life of Mansie Wauch by David Macbeth Moir]@TWC D-Link bookThe Life of Mansie Wauch CHAPTER XIX 9/9
I saw this as plain as a pikestaff, as, with one of her kindest looks, she insisted on my putting on a better happing to screen me from the cold, and on my taking something comfortable inwardly towards the dispelling of bad consequences.
So, after half a minute's stand-out, by way of refusal like, I agreed to a cupful of het-pint, as I thought it would be a thing Mungo Glen might never have had the good fortune to have tasted; and as it might operate by way of a cordial on the callant Benjie, who kept aye smally, and in a dwining way.
No sooner said than done--and off Nanse brushed in a couple of hurries to make the het-pint. After the small beer was put into the pan to boil, we found to our great mortification, that there were no eggs in the house, and Benjie was sent out with a candle to the hen-house, to see if any of the hens had laid since gloaming, and fetch what he could get.
In the middle of the mean time, I was expatiating to Mungo on what taste it would have, and how he had never seen any thing finer than it would be, when in ran Benjie, all out of breath, and his face as pale as a dishclout. "What's the matter, Benjie, what's the matter ?" said I to him rising up from my chair in a great hurry of a fright--"Has onybody killed ye? or is the fire broken out again? or has the French landed? or have ye seen a ghost? or are"-- "Eh, crifty!" cried Benjie, coming till his speech, "they're a' aff--cock and hens and a'-- there's naething left but the rotten nest-egg in the corner!" This was an awful dispensation, of which more hereafter.
In the midst of the desolation of the fire--such is the depravity of human nature--some ne'er-do-weels had taken advantage of my absence to break open the hen- house door; and our whole stock of poultry, the cock along with our seven hens--two of them tappit, and one muffed--were carried away bodily, stoop and roop. On this subject, howsoever, I shall say no more in this chapter, but merely observe in conclusion, that, as to our het-pint, we were obligated to make the best of a bad bargain, making up with whisky what it wanted in eggs; though our banquet could not be called altogether a merry one, the joys of our escape from the horrors of the fire being damped, as it were by a wet blanket, on account of the nefarious pillaging of our hen- house..
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