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"Ay is she; but I doobt she wad be waur gien she didna brak oot that gait whiles," rejoined Malcolm. "How do you mean?" "It frichts fowk at her, an' maybe sometimes pits 't oot o' her pooer to du waur. Gien ever she seek to mak it up wi' ye, my leddy, I wad hae little to say till her, gien I was you." "What could I have to say to a low creature like that?"
"If he puts us oot, there's nea place we'll can gan." Mordaunt hesitated. He imagined Shanks had had something to do with the accident to Jim's car, and it was obvious that the fellow was bitterly revengeful. At the beginning, Mordaunt had not meant to work upon his vindictive feelings; he had done so half-consciously, but now he meant to go on.
"Splash!" echoed Archie with a grim laugh. "She's gane a' into jaups. She maun hae thocht she was a juck-pool. I would like to dee like a Christian when I dee, and no' shuffle oot like a scattered explosion, or a humplick o' mince." "Oh, for Heaven's sake shut your mooth, an' let us get her gathered up an' get oot o' here. Dammit, hae ye nae common sense, swearin' an' jokin' about sic a thing!
Mony a lump o' rock an' castel thegither has rowed doon the brae upon a' sides, an' the ruins may weel hae filled up the gully at last. It's a wonnerfu' auld place, my lord." "What would you do with it if it were yours, Malcolm?" asked Lady Florimel. "I wad spen' a my spare time patchin' 't up to gar 't stan' oot agane the wither. It's crum'let awa' a heap sin' I min'."
If there's a crank wey o' doin' onything Sandy will find it oot. For years he reg'larly flang the stable key ower the gate efter he'd brocht oot Donal' an' the cairt. When he landit hame again, he climbed the gate for the key, an' syne climbed ower again an' opened it frae the ootside. He michta carried the key in his pooch; but onybody cudda dune that! But, as I was sayin', it's juist his wey.
"Nay it's all true; only it's scarce so bad i' t' story, as it was i' right airnest! Ay cooped oot o' t' drag loike ivry thing my hinder eend was sair a moanth and better!" "Now then," said I, "it's Tom's turn; let us hear about the bull." "Oh, the bull!" answered Tom.
So Holroyd hooted and whistled. Then the captain fell into a doubting fit of the worst kind. "Dere is one thing we can do," he said presently, "What's that?" said Holroyd. "'Oot and vissel again." So they did. The captain walked his deck and gesticulated to himself. He seemed to have many things on his mind. Fragments of speeches came from his lips.
I'll just have to be leaving him here the two days, Mr. Brown." "Ye wullna leave 'im! Ye'll tak' 'im wi' ye, or I'll hae to put 'im oot. Man, I couldna haud the place gin I brak the rules." "You will no' put the wee dog out!" Mr. Traill shook a playful, emphatic finger under the big man's nose. "Why wull I no'?" "Because, man, you have a vera soft heart, and you canna deny it."
It's the countryman, wi' his plough, to whom the city liver owes his food. We in Britain had a sair lesson in the war. Were the Germans no near bein' able to starve us oot and win the war wi' their submarines, And shouldna Britain ha' been able, as she was once, to feed hersel' frae her ain soil?
What's the laddie aboot? 'Do ye mean whan he gangs up the stair, mem? 'Ay. Ye ken weel eneuch what I mean. 'Weel, mem, I tell ye I dinna ken. An' ye never heard me tell ye a lee sin' ever I was i' yer service, mem. 'Na, nae doonricht. An' that's hoo ye win oot o' 't. Noo! 'Weel, as sure's deith, I dinna ken. Ye drive me to sweirin', mem, an' no to leein'. 'I carena.
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