bit story
before he gangs tae his bed, an' ye canna dae even that. An' then
a while more an' ye want to get to yer feet an' walk, and ye
canna; an' a while more an' ye want to lift up yer hand, an' ye
canna--an' in a while more ye're just forgotten an' done wi'.

JOHN. Aw, feyther!

DAVID. Dinna look sae troubled, John. I'm no' afraid to dee when
my time comes. It's these hints that I'm done wi' before I'm dead
that I dinna like.

JOHN. What'n hints?

DAVID. Well--Lizzie an' her richt's richt and wrang's wrang when
I think o' tellin' wee Alexander a bit story before he gangs tae
his bed.

JOHN (_gently_). Ye are a wee thing persistent, feyther.

DAVID. No, I'm no' persistent, John. I've gied in. I'm a
philosopher, John, an' a philosopher kens when he's done wi'.

JOHN. Aw, feyther!

DAVID (_getting lower and lower_). It's gey interesting,
philosophy, John, an' the only philosophy worth thinkin' about is
the philosophy of growing old--because that's what we're a' doing,
a' living things. There's nae philosophy in a stane, John; he's
juist a stane, an' in a hundred years he'll be juist a stane
still--unless he's broken up, an' then he'll be juist not a
stane, but he'll no' ken what's happened to him, because he didna
break up gradual and first lose his boat an' then his hoose, an'
then hae his wee grandson taken away when he was for tellin' him
a bit story before he gangs tae his bed.--It's yon losing yer
grip bit by bit and kennin' that yer losin' it that makes a
philosopher, John.

JOHN. If I kennt what ye meant by philosophy, feyther, I'd be
better able to follow ye.

(LIZZIE _enters quietly and closes door after her._)

JOHN. Is he asleep?

LIZZIE. No, he's no' asleep, but I've shut both doors, and the
neighbors canna hear him.

JOHN. Aw, Lizzie--

LIZZIE (_sharply_). John--

DAVID. Whit was I tellin' ye, John, about weans gettin' their ain
way if the neighbors had ears an' they lived close? Was I no'
richt?

LIZZIE (_answering for JOHN with some acerbity_). Aye, ye were
richt, feyther, nae doot; but we dinna live that close here, an'
the neighbors canna hear him at the back o' the hoose.

DAVID. Mebbe that's why ye changed Alexander into the parlor an'
gied me the bed in here when it began to get cold---

LIZZIE (_hurt_). Aw, no, feyther; I brought ye in here to be
warmer--

DAVID (_placably_). I believe ye, wumman--(_with a faint
twinkle_)--but it's turned oot luckily, has it no'?

(