"
"Weel!" she returned in playful triumph.
Donal saw that he had got hold of a pair of originals: it was a joy
to his heart: he was himself an original--one, namely, that lived
close to the simplicities of existence!
Andrew Comin, before offering him house-room, would never have asked
anyone what he was; but he would have thought it an equal lapse in
breeding not to show interest in the history as well as the person
of a guest. After a little more talk, so far from commonplace that
the common would have found it mirth-provoking, the cobbler said:
"An' what office may ye haud yersel', sir, i' the ministry o' the
temple?"
"I think I un'erstan' ye," replied Donal; "my mother says curious
things like you."
"Curious things is whiles no that curious," remarked Andrew.
A pause following, he resumed:
"Gien onything gie ye reason to prefar waitin' till ye ken Doory an'
me a bit better, sir," he said, "coont my ill-mainnert queston no
speirt."
"There's naething," answered Donal. "I'll tell ye onything or
a'thing aboot mysel'."
"Tell what ye wull, sir, an' keep what ye wull," said the cobbler.
"I was broucht up a herd-laddie," proceeded Donal, "an' whiles a
shepherd ane. For mony a year I kent mair aboot the hill-side nor
the ingle-neuk. But it's the same God an' Father upo' the hill-side
an' i' the king's pailace."
"An' ye'll ken a' aboot the win', an' the cloods, an' the w'ys o'
God ootside the hoose! I ken something hoo he hauds things gaein'
inside the hoose--in a body's hert, I mean--in mine an' Doory's
there, but I ken little aboot the w'y he gars things work 'at he's
no sae far ben in.
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