And he carried a bundle
and a stick in his hands, and on his head a superb but heavy beaver hat.
"I'm going your way, missis," said Jock.
"Seemingly," agreed Mrs Clowes, with due caution.
"Canst gi' us a lift?" he asked.
"And welcome," she said, her face changing like a flash to suit the
words.
"Nay, ye needna' stop!" shouted Jock.
In an instant he had leapt easily up into the van, and was seated by her
side therein on the children's stool.
"That's a hat--to travel in!" observed Mrs Clowes.
Jock removed the hat, examined it lovingly and replaced it.
"I couldn't ha' left it behind," said he, with a sigh, and continued
rapidly in another voice: "Missis, we'n seen a pretty good lot o' each
other this wik, and yet ye slips off o'this'n, without saying good-bye,
nor a word about yer soul!"
Mrs Clowes heaved her enormous breast and shook the reins.
"I've had my share of trouble," she remarked mysteriously.
"Tell me about it, missis!"
And lo! in a moment, lured on by his smile, she was telling him quite
familiarly about the ailments of her younger children, the escapades of
her unmarried daughter aged fifteen, the surliness of one of her
sons-in-law, the budding dishonesty of the other, the perils of infant
life, and the need of repainting the big van and getting new pictures
for the front of the booth.
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