The Entail; or, The Lairds of Grippy
'It's just as I jealoused,' cried she; 'it's a' the wark o' my gude-dochter--it was her that sent him; black was the day she e'er came to stay here; many a sore heart in the watches o' the night hae I had sin syne, for my poor weak misled lad; for if he were left to the freedom o' his own will, he would na stand on stepping stanes, but, without scrupulosity, would send me, his mother, to crack sand, or mak my leaving where I could, after wastering a' my jointure.'