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"Juist you keep your moo steekit, Pottie," says Dauvid, "or I'll mibby be middlin' wi' you. You're a miserable pack o' vagues, a' the lot o' ye, to gae wa' an' tak' advantage o' an' auld man! Yah! Damish your skins, I cud thrash the whole pack o' ye." He up wi' his niv an' took a hawp forrit.
But mibby if there was a noo licence or twa doon aboot the shore, there micht be mair traffik i' the herbir. The trustees wud mibby need to chairge shore dues on lads 'at was landit on the kee noo-an'-than. They cud be shedild as live stock, altho' they were half-deid wi' drink an' droonin' thegither. An' noo a wird or twa aboot "
"Look the number o' the slide, Sandy," said Bandy, "an' mak' shure you're richt. They're mibby oot o' order." "You're oot o' order," said Sandy, as angry as a wasp. "Haud that lum hat, Bawbie!" he says; an' he oot wi' the picture, an' roars oot "Number 2217! Look up 2217, Nathan, i' the book there, an' see what it says."
"Ow, weel-a-weel," says Sandy, gey dour-like he's as bucksturdie as a mule when he tak's't in's heid "but we're no' deid yet, an' we'll mibby manish to garr some fowk winder yet, when a's dune. What's been dune afore can be dune again; the speerit o' Bannockburn's no' de'ed oot a'thegither." But I left the cratur chatterin' awa' till himsel', an' ran but to sair some fowk i' the shop.
"But Moses is a fooshinless, hingin'-aboot kind o' a whaup," says I. "The blame's mibby no' a' on ae side o' the hoose. There's lots o' your braw billies ye wudna need to follow ower their ain doorstap. When there's din an' dirt i' the hoose, the wife aye gets the dirdum. Moses has ower muckle to say aboot the wife.
We'll hae oor meetin's in private, an' juist lat you an' the publik ken aboot bits o' things ya can mak' naething o'. D'ye see? If ye pet your nose in aboot ony bolies harkenin', you'll mibby get the wecht o' a bissam shaft on the end o't. That'll learn ye to slooch an' harken to ither fowk's bisness." "Keep me!" says I, I says. "Ye're terriple peppery the nicht, Sandy.
There's naethin' Saunders disna think he could improve, excep' himsel' mibby. I canna be bathered wi' the chatterin', fykie, kyowowin' little wratch. He's aye throwin' oot suggestions an' hints aboot this and that. He's naething but a suggestion himsel', an' I'm shure I cud of'en throw him oot, wi' richt gude will.
"Better g'ie the pileeceman tippence than tak' the cratur afore the shirra for stealin', an' mibby hae the toon peyin' a lot o' bawbees for keepin' her in the gyle, forby railroad tickets for her and twa peelars up to Dundee. That wudda been fully mair gin tippence," said Sandy. Argeyin' wi' Sandy's juist like chasin' a whitterit in a drystane dyke.
"Gomitry an' triangles!" says I. "Ye'll mibby be for into the flute band next, are ye? Weel, I'll tell you this I ken naething aboot the gomitry, or what like a thing it is; but if you bring ony o' your triangles here, wi' there ping ping-pinkey-pingin', I'll pet them doon the syre; that's what I'll do. I like music o' near ony kind.
"They're mibby inveesible, but that's them for a' that. The name's on the picture. You can look yersel', if you dinna believe me." "Ay, Pepper's Ghost!" roars oot the Smith. "He waits on lots o' fowk aboot election times. He's juist a perfeck scunner, nominatin' fowk against their will, an' draggin' them into publicity when they wud far raither be kickin' up some ither kind o' a row."
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