"But, Aaron, he was born in London!" "They think he was born in this
house," Aaron replied doggedly, "and it's no for me to cheapen him."

"Oh, Aaron, you pretend----"

"I was never very fond o' him," Aaron admitted, "but I winna cheapen
Jean Myles's bairn, and when they chap at my door and say they would
like to see the room Thomas Sandys was born in, I let them see the
best room I have. So that's how he has laid hands on your parlor,
Elspeth. Afore I can get rid o' them they gie a squeak and cry, 'Was
that Thomas Sandys's bed?' and I says it was. That's him taking the
very bed frae you, Elspeth."

"You might at least have shown them his bed in the garret," she said.

"It's a shilpit bit thing," he answered, "and I winna cheapen him.
They're curious, too, to see his favourite seat."

"It was the fender," she declared.

"It was," he assented, "but it's no for me to cheapen him, so I let
them see your new mahogany chair. 'Thomas Sandys's chair,' they call
it, and they sit down in it reverently. They winna even leave you the
piano. 'Was this Thomas Sandys's piano?' they speir. 'It was,' says I,
and syne they gowp at it." His under lip shot out, a sure sign that he
was angry. "I dinna blame him," he said, "but he had the same
masterful way of scooping everything into his lap when he was a
laddie, and I like him none the mair for it"; and from this position
Aaron would not budge.