J. J. Bell

“ Betty could not get rid of the foreboding, which had seized her shortly after the announcement of her son's intended visit, that he would be changed toward herself, his father, and the humble home. For he had married and had sons and daughters. He had done well in the New World: and from his letters she knew that the people he mixed with socially were not as herself and her husband. But she had long ago subdued her jealousy of Alick's wife; she had always implicitly believed him when he wrote that his growing business prevented a trip to the old country ”

“ It's too grand an evening to miss,” said the son.
“Ay, it's no a bad evenin', but ye'll dootless ha'e grander nor this in Ameriky,” returned Duncan, with a stealthy glance from his pipe to his son.
“America!” exclaimed Alick. The old man could not repress a gratified grin. “Weel, the Clyde's ill to bate in fair weather,” he remarked, as his son turned towards the porch.
Alick's mother rose at his approach. She smiled to him, almost shyly. ”

“ There was a short silence while she followed him into the sunshine.
“I'm thinkin' it's a peety ye didna let me pent the windows rid,” the old man remarked, pointing to his handiwork. “D've no think rid wud ha'e been cheerier like, Betty?”
“I'm thinkin' ye're a muckle haver,” returned Betty good-humoredly. “Rid's faur ower fancy for folk like us. What's the time noo, Duncan?”
“Jist four. I doot the boat'll be late the day,” he observed, winking. “Can ye no sit doon an' rest ye? Ye've been like a hen on a het girdle since the mornin'. Ye'll be wearit when Alick gets here.” ”