tish Chiefs,' an' I'm jist at the bit aboot Wallace's wife being
murdered by Hazelrig. My! It's awfu' vexin'."

"Ay, it's a fine book, Robin. Ye might read that bit oot to me."

"A' richt," and he would start to read while Nellie sat down to listen.
Soon both were engrossed in the sad story, so powerfully told, and the
tears would be running from the mother's eyes as her fancy pictured the
sorrows of Wallace, while Robert's voice would break, and a sob come
into his throat, as he proceeded. When finally the passage was reached
where the brutal blow was struck, the book would have to be put down,
while mother and son both cried as if the grief depicted were their own.

"It's an awfu' gran' book, Rob," she would say after a time, while she
strove to subdue the sobs in her breast. "Puir Wallace! It maun ha'e
been an awfu' blow to him, when he heard that Marion was killed. But you
maun read on a bit far'er, for I'm no' gaun tae work ony mair till I see
that dirty beast Hazelrig get his deserts. He has wrocht for it, sae
jist gang on noo till you feenish the bit aboot him gettin' killed wi'
Wallace. He deserves it for killin' a woman."

Thus Robert would have to go on, until the incident in question had been
reached in the story, and as it unfolded itself his voice would grow
firmer and stronger as he became infected with the narrative, while his
mother's eyes would glow, and her body be tense with interest, and an
expectant expression would creep over her face, betraying her
excitement. In the interview between Wallace and Hazelrig in the house
in the Wellgate in Lanark, when Wallace dramatically draws his sword in
answer to the supplication for mercy, and says: "Ay, the same mercy as
you showed my Marion," Robert's voice would thunder forth the words with
terrible sternness, while Nellie would gasp and catch her breath in a
quick little sob of excitement, as the feeling of satisfied justice
filled her heart. And when the blow fell that laid the English governor
low, she would burst out: "Serves him richt, the dirty tyrant. He's got
what he deserved, an' it serves him right!"

On another occasion Robert would suddenly burst out laughing, when
reading Delta's chronicle of the adventures of Mansie Waugh, the
Scottish "Handy Andy."

"What are you laughing at, Robin?" Nellie would enquire, a smile
breaking over her face also.

"Oh, it's Mansie Waugh, mither. Oh, but it's a gran' bit. Listen to
this," and he would begin t