"I'll wash the floor for you, lass," he said impulsively, almost beside
himself with happiness, as he realized that this little act of his had
made them both so happy. "You've been in the washing tub all day, and I
ken you'll be scrubbin' on the floor first thing in the morning, as soon
as we are away to the pit. But I'll do it for you the nicht. The bairns
are all in bed, and I'll no' be long. You sit an' tak' a rest," and he
was off for the pail and a scrubbing brush, and was back at the fireside
pouring water from the kettle before his wife realized it.
"Oh, never mind, Geordie," she said remonstratingly, "I'll do it myself
in the morning. You've had your own work to do in the pit, an' you need
all the rest you can get."
"No," he said decisively. "You sit doon, lass. I'll no' be lang. Just
you sing a bit sang to me, just as you used to sing, Nellie, an' I'll
wash out the floor," and he was soon on his knees, scrubbing away as if
it were a daily occurrence with him. And Nellie, pleased and happy
beyond expression, sat in the big chair by the fireside and sang his
favorite ballad, "Kirkconnel Lea."
Oh, that I were where Helen lies,
For nicht and day on me she cries,
Oh, that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirkconnel Lea.
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