Calcutta noo. He says naething but that he doobts he's gane. He
gaed up the country, and he hasna hard o' him for sae lang. We hae
keepit up a correspondence for mony a year noo, Dr. Anderson an' me.
He was a relation o' Anerew's, ye ken--a second cousin, or
something. He'll be hame or lang, I'm thinkin', wi' a fine
pension.'

'He winna weir a cotton sark, I'll be boon',' said MacGregor.

'What's the auld leddy gaein' to du wi' that lang-leggit oye
(grandson) o' hers, Anerew's son?' asked Sampson.

'Ow! he'll be gaein' to the college, I'm thinkin'. He's a fine lad,
and a clever, they tell me,' said Mr. Thomson.

'Indeed, he's all that, and more too,' said the school-master.

'There's naething 'ull du but the college noo!' said MacGregor, whom
nobody heeded, for fear of again rousing his anger.

'Hoo 'ill she manage that, honest woman? She maun hae but little to
spare frae the cleedin' o' 'm.'

'She's a gude manager, Mistress Faukner. And, ye see, she has the
bleachgreen yet.'

'She doesna weir cotton sarks,' growled MacGregor. 'Mony's the wob
o' mine she's bleached and boucht tu!'

Nobody heeding him yet, he began to feel insulted, and broke in upon