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"Bless your soul, she'll stan' all right; she likes stan'in' a heap better 'n she doos goin'; runnin' away ain't no temptation to Maria Cummins; let well enough alone 's her motto. Jump in, sissy! There ye be! Now git yer baby-shay in the back of the wagon, bubby, 'n' we'll be 's snug 's a bug in a rug."
But the thought that perhaps Curly had told him something was like the serpent under them. Yet somehow she had got so beautiful before she reached the house, that her aunt, who had come to see her, called out, "Losh! lassie! What hae ye been aboot? Ye hae a colour by ordinar'." "That's easy accoontet for," said her mistress roguishly. "She was stan'in' killoguin wi' a bonnie young lad an' a horse.
"De moon come out, an' I cotch sight o' her stan'in' dyar in her white dress, wid de cloak she had wrapped herse'f up in drapped off on de groun', an' she didn' look like she wuz 'feared o' nuthin'. She wuz mons'us purty ez she stood dyar wid de green bushes behine her, an' she hed jes' a few flowers in her breas' right hyah and some leaves in her sorrel hyar; an' de moon come out an' shined down on her hyar an' her frock an' 'peared like de light wuz jes' stan'in' off it ez she stood dyar lookin' at Marse Chan wid her head tho'd back, jes' like dat mawnin' when she pahss Marse Chan in de road widout speakin' to 'im, an' sez to me, 'Good-mawnin', Sam.
"Gang an' tell them i' my name, 'at I tak' back ilka scart o' a nottice I ever ga'e ane o' them to quit, only we maun ha'e nae mair stan'in' o' honest fowk 'at comes to bigg herbours till them. Div ye think it wad be weel ta'en gien ye tuik a poun' nott the piece to the twa women?" "I wadna du that, sir, gien I was you," answered Malcolm.
However, I said nothing; thinkin they were settlin some private business thegither, and, oot o' guid nature, wad rather wait a minute or twa than interrupt them. But my waiting wasna lang. Before I had been an instant in the office, ane o' the men cam roun to whar I was stan'in, and, lookin me fiercely in the face, said "What's your name, sir, if you please?"
'I saw Black Geordie the nicht again, stan'in' at a back door, an' Jock Mitchell, upo' Reid Rorie, haudin' him. 'Wha's Jock Mitchell? asked Robert. 'My brither Sandy's ill-faured groom, answered Shargar. 'Whatever mischeef Sandy's up till, Jock comes in i' the heid or tail o' 't. 'I wonner what he's up till noo. 'Faith! nae guid.
Pierre, den Martin, all Cajun'. Oh! dass mo'n fifty year' 'go. Dey all comes from dis yeh riveh coast; 'caze de rich Creole', dey buy 'em out. Yes, seh, dat use' be de Côte Acadien', right yeh whar yo' feet stan'in' on. C'est la côte Acadien', just ici, oui." The trudging stranger waived away the right of translation. He had some reason for preferring English.
"I lay I bus' yo' haid open ef yer don't quit yo' stan'in' wi' yer mouf gapin' at the trouble yer done made." Aunt M'randa was sparring for time. "Don' yer worry 'bout dat, honey" this to Emily Louise "hit's jes' one dese here mistakes in jogaphy, seem like, same es yer tell erbout gettin' kep' in foh. Huccome a gen'man like yo' paw, got bawn y'other side de Ohier River, 'ceptin' was an acci-dent?
Meanwhile John Broom had been round the corner and was back again. "What for are ye stan'in' there, ye fule?" asked his new friend. "What for didna ye gang for the whusky?" "It's here, sir." "My certy, ye dinna let the grass grow under your feet," said the Highlander; and he added, "If ye want to run errands, laddie, ye can come back again." It was the beginning of a fresh life for John Broom.
"We want a resurrectioner 'at bides i' this hoose a foul bane-pikin' doctor," answered a huge, black-faced smith. "What do ye want wi' him?" "What are ye stan'in' jawin' there for? Haud oot o' the gait. Gin he bena in your box, what's the odds o' oor luikin' in't?"
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