Murders > Tales for the farmers' ingle-neuk

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the' place they were served in the triple rapacity
of kitchen, parlour, and bed-room. Its furniture
was suitably abundant, and Mrs MacClarty
prided herself mnch on the noble stock of linen
she possest, but which Mrs Mason thougln, too
hue for common use. “ For common use !”
oried Mrs MacClarty : “ na, na, we’re no sic
fools as put our napery to common use ! I have
a dizen tableclaiths in that press, thirty year old,
that were never upon a table. They are a’ o’
my mother’s spinning. 1 have nine o’ my ain
makin’ forby, that never saw the sun but at the
bookin washing.
“ It is no doubt a good thing,” said Mrs
Mason, “ to have a stock of goods of any kind,
provided one has a prospect of turning them to
account ; but 1 think a towel of nice clean huck-
a-buck would \vi{>e a cup as well, and better,
than a damask napkin.”
“Towels! cried Mrs MacClarty, “na, na, we
mamma pretend to towels; we just wipe up the
things wi’ what comes iu the gait.
On saying this, the good woman, pulled out
from between the seed-tub and her husband’s
dirty shoes, a long blackened rag, and with it
rubbed one of the pewter plates, with which she
stepped into the closet for a roll of butter.
“ There,” says she, “ I am sure ye’ll say, that
ye never ate better butter in your life. There’s
no in a’ the Glen better kye than ours. 1 hope
ye’ll eat heartily; and I’m sure ye’re heartily
welcome.”