s of the kind. Independent of
these, the sight of her general incompetence filled him with a seething
rage, which found vent not in lengthy tirades but the smooth venom of
his tongue. Let him keep the outside of the house never so spick and
span, inside was awry with her untidiness. She was unworthy of the House
with the Green Shutters--that was the gist of it. Every time he set eyes
on the poor trollop, the fresh perception of her incompetence which the
sudden sight of her flashed, as she trailed aimlessly about, seemed to
fatten his rage and give a coarser birr to his tongue.

Mrs. Gourlay had only four people to look after--her husband, her two
children, and Jock Gilmour, the orra man. And the wife of Drucken
Wabster--who had to go charing because she was the wife of Drucken
Wabster--came in every day, and all day long, to help her with the work.
Yet the house was always in confusion. Mrs. Gourlay had asked for
another servant, but Gourlay would not allow that; "one's enough," said
he, and what he once laid down he never went back on. Mrs. Gourlay had
to muddle along as best she could, and having no strength either of mind
or body, she let things drift, and took refuge in reading silly fiction.

As Gourlay shoved his feet into his boots, and stamped to make them
easy, he glowered at the kitchen from under his heavy brows with a huge
disgust. The table was littered with unwashed dishes, and on the corner
of it next him was a great black sloppy ring, showing where a wet
saucepan had been laid upon the bare board. The sun streamed through the
window in yellow heat right on to a pat of melting butter. There was a
basin of dirty water beneath the table, with the dishcloth slopping over
on the ground.

"It's a tidy house!" said he.

"Ach, well," she cried, "you and your kitchen-range! It was that that
did it! The masons could have redd out the fireplace to make room for't
in the afternoon before it comes hame. They could have done't brawly,
but ye wouldna hear o't--oh no; ye bude to have the whole place gutted
out yestreen. I had to boil everything on the parlour fire this morning;
no wonder I'm a little tousy!"

The old-fashioned kitchen grate had been removed and the jambs had been
widened on each side of the fireplace; it yawned empty and cold. A
little rubble of mortar, newly dried, lay about the bottom of the
square recess. The sight of the crude, unfamiliar scraps of dropped lime
in the gaping place where warmth