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Noo I maun confess 'at the ballant o' Kemp Owen was rinnin' i' the worm-heid o' me, an' I cudna help thinkin' what, notwithstan'in' the cheenge o' han's i' the story, lay still to the pairt o' the knicht; but hoo was ony man, no to say a mere ugsome serpent, to mint at sic a thing till a leddy, whether she was in steel beets an' spurs or in lang train an' silver slippers? An' haith!
"I am afraid he has got into one of those dens, and has pawned his clothes, as dozens of them do, for food, and so can't get out." "Pawned his clothes for victuals! To think o' that, noo! But if he had work, can't he get victuals?" "Oh!"
'He winna weir a cotton sark, I'll be boon', said MacGregor. 'Ow! he'll be gaein' to the college, I'm thinkin'. He's a fine lad, and a clever, they tell me, said Mr. Thomson. 'Indeed, he's all that, and more too, said the school-master. 'There's naething 'ull du but the college noo! said MacGregor, whom nobody heeded, for fear of again rousing his anger.
'Not me, miss, the burglar said very earnestly, and he looked at the plate-basket again, as if that alone would be enough to keep him away, our robber said afterwards. 'And will you be good and not rob any more? said Alice. 'I'll turn over a noo leaf, miss, so help me. Then Alice said 'Oh, do let him go! I'm sure he'll be good.
Fine-looking chap, but thinks too much of hisself. Make a noo man of him to be aboard a man-o'-war for a few years." "Pst, Tom! Listen! They're fighting up at the back there." "And no mistake, my lad."
"Noo ye're oot, laird, hadna ye better come wi' me hame to Miss Horn's, whaur ye wad be as safe's gien ye war in h'aven itsel'?" "Na, I canna gang to Miss Horn's," he replied. "What for no, laird?" Pulling Malcolm down towards him, the laird whispered in his ear, "'Cause she's fleyt at my back." A moment or two passed ere Malcolm could think of a reply both true and fitting.
Noo, I'm a modest man, and it's no for me to be tellin' them that feel as he did what it is, maybe, they don't see. 'Deed, and I'm no sure I know mysel'. But here's a bit o' talk I heard between two costers as I was leavin' Gatti's that first nicht. "Hi, Alf, wot' jer fink o' that Scotch bloke?" one of them asked his mate. The other began to laugh. "Blow me, 'Ennery, d'ye twig what 'e meant?
Yince a'body was gled to see me, and wad keep me as lang's I wantit, and had aye a gud word at meeting and pairting. Noo it's a' changed, and my wark's dune." I saw fine that the man was daft, but what answer could I gie to his havers? Folk in the Callowa Glens are as kind as afore, but ill weather and auld age had put queer notions intil his heid.
"I've had to do with cattle, an' mules, an' even hogs in my time, but I sure don't guess you ken set them bits o' mites in a brandin' corral, nor feed 'em oats an' hay, nor even ladle 'em swill for supper, like hogs. Fer other things, I don't guess I could bile a bean right without a lib'ry o' cook-books, so how I'm to make 'em elegant pap for their suppers 'ud beat the Noo York p'lice force.
There were here two Sisters whom I did not know, several doctors, one of them a fat little army doctor who had often been a visitor to our Otriad. The latter greeted Nikitin warmly, nodded to me. He was a gay, merry little man with twinkling eyes. "Noo tak. Fine, our hospital, don't you think? Plenty to do this night, my friend. Here, golubchik, this way.... Finger, is it? Oh! that's nothing.
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