Nellie was very ill, and was now in bed. The reaction had been too much
for her. But, as Jenny Maitland had said: "She's never cried yet, an' it
would hae been better gin she had. She jist looked at ye wi' her big
black e'en sae vexed-like and faraway lookin', an' never spoke hardly.
When they carried out the coffins, she sprang up gin she wad follow
them, but was putten back to bed again. It was heart-vexin' to look at
her."
Robert suffered, too. The sympathy of everyone went out to him. At night
when he went to bed the whole scene was reenacted before him in all its
horror. Those tense moments of tragedy had so powerfully impressed his
boyish mind that he could never forget them.
At the end of the week Andrew Marshall visited them to talk over
matters. A collection had been made at the pay-office by the men
employed at the pit, and a beautiful wreath purchased and placed upon
the grave. A substantial balance had been handed over to Mrs. Sinclair,
and this defrayed the expenses of the funeral. After Andrew had spoken
of various things, he broke on to the object of his errand that night.
"I hae been thinkin', Nellie," he began nervously, "that I could tak'
Rob in wi' me.
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