“When the pie cam’ up, it was jist the shape o’ an ordinary pie, wi’ nae beads nor onything Art aboot it, and Duffy cheered up at that, and said he enjoyed his tea.” “I hope the refining and elevating influence of Miss Cranston’s beautiful rooms will have a permanent effect on Duffy’s taste,” I said. “Perhaps it will,” said Erchie; “but we were nae sooner oot than he was wonderin’ where the nearest place wad be for a gless o’ beer.” XXIII THE HIDDEN TREASURE “I wish somebody would leave me some money,” said Jinnet, “and the first thing I would dae wi’t would be to buy ye a new topcoat. That yin’s Erchie gettin’ gey shabby, and that glazed I can almaist see my face in the back o’t.” “Then ye’re weel aff,” said Erchie, “for there’s seldom ye’ll see a bonnier yin in a better lookin’-gless.” “Oh, ye auld haver!” cried Jinnet, pushing him. “I wonder ye divna think shame to be talkin’ like a laddie to his first lass; and me jist a done auld body! If I could jist get a shape I wad buy a remnant and mak’ ye a topcoat mysel’. I could dae’t quite easy.” “I ken fine that,” said her husband, “but I’ll bate ye would put the buttons on the wrang side, the way ye did wi’ yon waistcoat. It’s a droll thing aboot weemen’s claes that they aye hae their buttons on caurey-handed. It jist lets ye see their contrariness.” “Oh! it’s a peety ye mairried me,” said Jinnet; “a contrairy wife must be an awfu’ handfu’.” “Weel, so ye are contrairy,” said Erchie firmly. “It tak’s twa to be contrairy, jist the same wye as it tak’s twa to mak’ a quarrel,” said Jinnet, picking some fluff off his sleeve. “Whit wye am I contrairy I would like to ken?” “If ye werena contrairy, ye would be thinkin’ o’ buyin’ something for yersel’ instead o’ a topcoat for me, and ye’re far mair needn’t,” said Erchie, and with that a knock came to the door. “There’s somebody,” said Jinnet hastily, “put on the kettle.” “Come awa’ in, Mr Duffy, and you, Mrs Duffy,” said Jinnet; “we’re rale gled to see ye, Erchie and me. I was jist puttin’ on the kettle to mak’ a drap tea.” Duffy and his wife came into the cosy light and warmth of the kitchen, and sat down. There was an elation in the coalman’s eye that could not be concealed. “My jove! I’ve news for ye the nicht,” said he, taking out his pipe and lighting it. “If it’s that the bag o’ coals is up anither bawbee,” said Erchie, “there’s nae hurry for’t. It’s no’ awfu’ new news that onywye.” “Ye needna be aye castin’ up my tred to me,” protested Duffy. “Whaur would ye be wantin’ coals?” “Mr MacPherson’s quite richt,” said Mrs Duffy; “everybody kens it’s no’ an awfu’ genteel thing sellin’ coals, they’re that--that black. I’m aye at him, Mrs MacPherson, to gie up the ree and the lorries and start a eatin’-house. I could bake and cook for’t fine. Noo that this money’s com’ in’ to us, we could dae’t quite easy. Look at the profit’ aff mulk itsel’!”