"What's wrang wi' ye, my lad?"

"The sun is gone to the Devil, for one thing."

"Hech! hech! ye'll no be long ahint him; div ye no think shame."

"And I want that little brute just to do so, and he'd die first."

"Oh, ye villain, to ca' a bairn a brute; there's but ae brute here, an'
it's no you, Jamie, nor me--is it, my lamb?"

She then stepped to the window.

"It's clear to windward; in ten minutes ye'll hae plenty sun. Tak your
tools noo." And at the word she knelt on the floor, whipped out a paper
of sugar-plums and said to him she had christened "Jamie." "Heb! Here's
sweeties till ye." Out went Jamie's arms, as if he had been a machine and
she had pulled the right string.

"Ah, that will do," said Gatty, and sketched away.

Unfortunately, Jamie was quickly arrested on the way to immortality by
his mother, who came in, saying:

"I maun hae my bairn--he canna be aye wasting his time here."

This sally awakened the satire that ever lies ready in piscatory bosoms.

"Wasting his time! ye're no blate. Oh, ye'll be for taking him to the