United States or Sudan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Here comes his boy back an' says, 'I'm Peter Junior, and yer son. An' his feyther says till him, 'Ye're no my son, for my son was murder't an' ye're Richard Kildene wha' murder't him. And noo, it's for ye to go home, Hester, an' bring Peter to his senses, and show him the truth. A mither knows her ain boy, an' if it's Peter Junior, it's Peter Junior, and Richard Kildene's died."
As I tell't ye, it's no so bad," she said at last. "Wha's the trouble, Ellen? Don't keep us waitin'." "Bide ye in patience, child. Ye're always so easily excitet. I maun read the letter again to get the gist o't, but it's like this. The Elder's been of the opeenion noo these three years that his son was most foully murder't, an "
Ye maun no keep interruptin'. Jean has no order in her brain. She aye pits the last first an' the first last. This is a hopefu' letter an' a guid ain from yer friend, an' it tells ye yer son's leevin' an' no murder't " "Thank the Lord! I ha'e aye said it," ejaculated Jean, fervently. "Ye ha'e aye said it? Child, what mean ye? Ye ha'e kenned naethin' aboot it." But Jean would not be set down.
As for me, my temper had flared up like the burning of a loose charge of powder, and by instinct my right hand sought the handle of the mate's hanger. The beldame saw the motion. "An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin gowk?" The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant violence, nothing less.
"He may ha'e been kill't, but he was no' murder't," cried Jean, excitedly. "I tell ye 'twas purely by accident " she paused and suddenly clapped both hands over her mouth and rocked herself back and forth as if she had made some egregious blunder, then: "Gang on wi' yer tellin'. It's dour to bide waitin'. Gie me the letter an' lat me read it for mysel'." "Lat me tell't as I maun tell't.
As for me, my temper had flared up like the burning of a loose charge of powder, and by instinct my right hand sought the handle of the mate's hanger. The beldame saw the motion. "An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin gowk?" The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant violence, nothing less.
As for me, my temper had flared up like the burning of a loose charge of powder, and by instinct my right hand sought the handle of the mate's hanger. The beldame saw the motion. "An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskin gowk?" The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meant violence, nothing less.
Word Of The Day