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She ain't on no shoal, nor nothin'. She's jest a-lyin' tew. An' I don't see no signs o' no boats nuther; an's fur's I kin see, them folks is a firin' off that air gun jest fur the musicalness on't. Blast 'em! Come, gals: we mought as well be walkin' along hum as ter stop a-yawpin' here in the wind an' spray, a-burnin' up the winter's kindlin' fur folks 'at's a-foolin' on us.
'My friend, said Uncle Eb, between bites of a doughnut, 'I don' care what I ride in so long as 'tain't a hearse. I want sumthin' at's comfortable an' purty middlin' spry. It'll do us good up here t' git jerked a few hunderd miles an' back ev'ry leetle while. Keep our j'ints limber. We'll live longer fer it, an' thet'll please God sure cuz I don't think he's hankerin' fer our society not a bit.
I hae made a fire 'at's baith big an' bricht, an' fit to ro'st Belzebub an' I beg your pardon, laird but it's some days I micht say ooks sin' there was a fire intil 't, an' the place needs time to tak the heat intil its auld neuks." She might have said years not a few, instead of some weeks, but her truthfulness did not drive her so far.
He had posted a lookout on the high cliff to the north to watch the sea on both sides, though he doubted if the entrance to the cliff was generally known he had never even seen a map on which the island was marked. "What's its name," asked Ardita "the island, I mean?" "No name 'tall," chuckled Babe. "Reckin she jus' island, 'at's all."
"But Aunty's all so childish-like on my account, you see I'm 'most afeard she'll be took down an' 'at's what bothers ME! 'Cause ef my good ole Aunty ever would git sick an' die, I don't know what she'd do in Heaven till I come, by an' by: Fer she's so ust to all my ways, an' ever'thing, you know, An' no one there like me, to nurse an' worry over so!
"A man 'at's honest i' the main may play the verra dog afore he gets the deevil oot o' 'im ance he's in like that. We'll hae to cast a k-not or twa aboot 'im an' lay 'im i' the boddom o' the boat." The six had already started after him like one man. But Malcolm cried, "Let him go: he has done me no wrong yet, and I don't believe will do me any. But for no risk must we prevent wrong with wrong."
He gave a stare when he saw Annie, for he had thought her out of the way at Howglen, and said in a tone of asperity, "Ye're a' gait at ance, Annie Anderson. A doonricht rintheroot!" "Lat the bairn be, Maister Bruce," said Tibbie. "She's doin' the Lord's will, whether ye may think it or no. She's visitin' them 'at's i' the prison-hoose o' the dark.
Beside, fro wake lads, sick as yon, at's bin train't to nought but leet wark, an' a warm place to wortch in, what con yo expect? We'n had a deeal o' bother wi 'em abeawt bein' paid for weet days, when they couldn't wortch. They wur not paid for weet days at th' furst; an' they geet it into their yeds at Shorrock were to blame.
"Wha's speirin? an' what richt hae ye to speir?" returned the old man in an angry voice, and lifting himself quickly, though with an aching sigh, looked at him with hard blue eyes. "A countryman o' yer ain," answered Cosmo. "Mony ane's that 'at's naething the better nor the walcomer. Gie an accoont o' yersel', or the doags'll be lowsed upo' ye here in a jiffey.
Some on 'em gets knocked up neaw an' then, an' they han to stop a-whoam a day or two; an' some on 'em connot ston gettin' weet through it mays 'em ill; an' here an' theer one turns up at doesn't like the job at o' they'd rayther clem. There is at's both willin' an' able; thoose are likely to get a better job, somewheer. There's othersome at's willin' enough, but connot ston th' racket.
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