Then as I came nearer to him I saw that he was crying, and I stood staring, for I had always thought that it was not a thing that a man could do.

I can see him now, for he had so deep a crease across his brown cheek that no tear could pass it, but must trickle away sideways and so down to his ear, hopping off on to the sheet of paper.

My mother sat beside him and stroked his hands like she did the cat's back when she would soothe it.
"Aye, Jeannie," said he, "poor Willie's gone.

It's from the lawyer, and it was sudden or they'd ha' sent word of it.

Carbuncle, he says, and a flush o' blood to the head." "Ah! well, his trouble's over," said my mother.
My father rubbed his ears with the tablecloth.
"He's left a' his savings to his lassie," said he, "and by gom if she's not changed from what she promised to be she'll soon gar them flee.
You mind what she said of weak tea under this very roof, and it at seven shillings the pound!" My mother shook her head, and looked up at the flitches of bacon that hung from the ceiling.
"He doesn't say how much, but she'll have enough and to spare, he says.
And she's to come and bide with us, for that was his last wish." "To pay for her keep!" cried my mother sharply.