you're done with that bit
parritch, I could just take a sup of it myself. Ay," he continued, as
soon as he had ousted me from the stool and spoon, "they're fine,
halesome food--they're grand food, parritch." He murmured a little grace
to himself and fell-to. "Your father was very fond of his meat, I mind;
he was a hearty, if not a great eater; but as for me, I could never do
mair than pyke at food." He took a pull at the small beer, which
probably reminded him of hospitable duties, for his next speech ran
thus: "If ye're dry, ye'll find water behind the door."

To this I returned no answer, standing stiffly on my two feet, and
looking down upon my uncle with a mighty angry heart. He, on his part,
continued to eat like a man under some pressure of time, and to throw
out little darting glances now at my shoes and now at my home-spun
stockings. Once only, when he had ventured to look a little higher, our
eyes met; and no thief taken with a hand in a man's pocket could have
shown more lively signals of distress. This set me in a muse, whether
his timidity arose from too long a disuse of any human company; and
whether perhaps, upon a little trial, it might pass off, and my uncle
change into an altogether different man. From this I was awakened by his
sharp voice.

"Your father's been long dead?" he asked.

"Three weeks, sir," said I.

"He was a secret man, Alexander--a secret, silent man," he continued.
"He never said muckle when he was young. He'll never have spoken muckle
of me?"

"I never knew, sir, till you told it me yourself, that he had any
brother."

"Dear me, dear me!" said Ebenezer. "Nor yet of Shaws, I daresay?"

"Not so much as the name, sir," said I.

"To think o' that!" said he. "A strange nature of a man!" For all that,
he seemed singularly satisfied, but whether with himself, or me, or with
this conduct of my father's, was more than I could read. Certainly,
however, he seemed to be outgrowing that distaste, or ill-will, that he
had conceived at first against my person; for presently he jumped up,
came across the room behind me, and hit me a smack upon the shoulder.
"We'll agree fine yet!" he cried. "I'm just as glad I let you in. And
now come awa' to your bed."

To my surprise, he lit no lamp or candle, but set forth into the dark
passage, groped his way, breathing deeply, up a flight of steps, and
paused before a door, which he unlocked. I was close upon his heels,
having stumbled after him as b