You are
awfu' late."
He did not answer but stooped to take off his boots, and Mrs. Sinclair
was soon out of bed and upon the floor.
"Michty me, laddie! You are wringin' wet! Where have you been? Rain and
glaur to the e'en holes! Get thae wet claes off you at yince, an' I'll
get dry shirts for you, an' then awa' till your bed!" she rattled on,
running to the chest in the room and coming back with dry clothes in her
arms. "My, I never kent you oot o' the hoose as late as this in a' your
life! Have you been oot in a' that rain?"
"Ay," he answered, but venturing nothing more, as he went on changing.
"It's been an awfu' nicht o' wind and rain," she again observed,
glancing at his dripping clothes, and conveying a hint that explanations
were desirable.
"I canna understand at a' what way you hae bidden oot in a' that rain,
Lod's sake? It's enough to gie you your daeth o' cauld. You are wet to
the skin, an' there's no a dry steek on you? Hae you been oot in it a'?"
and her curiosity she felt was too crudely put to be answered.
Robert knew that she was bent on having an explanation, and that if he
gave her any encouragement at all she'd soon have the whole story out of
him.
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