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Thin, right smash into our rear, came fwhat was left av the Jock Elliotts wid four pipers an' not half a kilt among thim, playin' for the dear life, an' swingin' their rumps like buck rabbits, an' a native rig'mint shrieking blue murther. Ye niver heard the like. There was men cryin' like women that did an' faith I do not blame thim.
"Terrible bad she is, and cryin' out for 'ee, m'am." In the midst of this confusion appeared a veiled and cloaked figure, apparently belonging to Mrs. Barraclough, who nervously flapped hands and hastened, surrounded by a babbling mob of servitors, toward the nearest window.
Our love wasn't of yistherday: afore the links of my hair came to my showldhers I loved him, an' thought of him; an many a time he tould me that I was his first! God knows he was my first, an' he will be my last, let him live or die." "Well, but, Peggy achora," said his sister, "maybe it's sinful to be cryin' this way, an' he not dead."
Her respect for Joan began to increase when she realized that the money was hers. Probably there was even more where that came from. "Anyway," she reflected, "it ban't no use cryin' ower spilt milk. What's done's done. An' a thousand pounds'll go long ways to softenin' the road. She might travel up-long to Truro to my cousin an' bide quiet theer till arter, an' no harm done, poor lass.
"Now set down in this cheer, daughter, an' tell us what ye know about it all, easy an' quiet," said the coroner in a soothing, paternal strain. "Oh, nuthin', nuthin'!" exclaimed the girl, throwing herself into the chair in the attitude of an abandonment of grief. "Air ye cryin' 'kase ye war 'quainted with him ennywise?" demanded one of the jurymen, with a quickening interest.
"'Tis awful, Bessie, t' hear men goin' on like that." "Like what?" "Cryin'." A little while longer I sat silent with my sister until, indeed, the restless footfalls ceased, and the blessed quiet of night fell once again. "An', Bessie," said I, "he said a queer thing." She glanced a question. "He said your name!" She was much interested but hopelessly puzzled.
But when he set foot upon the threshold of his room only the little figure, pulling itself again erect in the bed, met his eyes in the dim light issuing from the office, and otherwise the room was empty. "Nobody heard me cryin' but her," explained Bob to his questioning guardian. "Cynthia was all goned away and I heard the fiddles and they made me cry. She comed in and told me stories. I love her.
Is it for cryin' for my betrothed husband, that was sworn to me, an' I to him, before the eye of God above us? This day week I was to be his bride; an' now now Oh, Vread Reillaghan, take me to you! Let me go to his mother! My heart's broke, Vread Reillaghan! Let me go to her: nobody's grief for him is like ours. You're his mother, an' I'm his wife in the sight o' God.
I don't want to leave Timmy! An' with that, the other girl starts up the same, an' the wee red-head he gets at it harder'n the rest, an' there was the three o' them cryin' an' takin' on, 'Oh, let Timmy come, too! Let Timmy come, too! 'Who's Timmy? says Jake to the matron. 'Is he their dog? says he. 'No, says she, 'he's their brother, says she.
What the town's cryin' out for is a new broom a man with ideas, eh, Mr Philp? above all, a man who's independent. So first of all they'll flatter ye up into standin' for the Parish Council, and put ye head o' the poll " "Tut, man!" interrupted Captain Cai, flushing a little. "What do I know about such things? Not o' course that I shan't take an interest as a ratepayer " "To be sure.
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