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"Maybe he 'as thrown the 'ooks into 'er. Who knows? It looks that w'y to me." "In any case," said Britton, gloom in his voice, "it's a most unhappy state of affairs. He's getting to be a perfect crank. Complines about everything I do. He won't 'ave 'is trousers pressed and he 'asn't been shaved since Monday." I stole away, rage in my soul. Or was it mortification?
"Still there are vahrious wy's in which a man can be deein the wull o' his Father in h'aven, and the great thing for ilk ane is to fin' oot the best w'y he can set aboot deein that wull.
Only they 'aven't got a fair chawnce even to agitate fur their rights. As I wus comin' up ere, I 'eard a man sayin', "Look at this big crowd. W'y, we're all men! If the women want the vote, w'y ain't they here to s'y so?" Well, I'll tell you w'y. It's because they've 'ad to get the dinner fur you and me, and now they're washin' up dishes.
"Well," began Old Amos, not ill-pleased, "this 'ere Dutton wants to ax 'ee a question, 'e du, Peter." "I shall be glad to answer it, if I can," I returned. "You 'ear that? well, ax your question, James Dutton," commanded the old man. "W'y, ye see, Amos," began Dutton, positively reeking apology, "I du be that on-common 'ot you ax un."
'Divna ye think, father, said Kirsty, 'it wud be the surest and speediest w'y for me to gang mysel to sir Haco? ''Deed it wud be that, Kirsty! answered David. 'There's naething like the bodily presence o' the leevin sowl to gar things gang!
"Sheep?" echoed Hardy, "did you keep 'em there all Winter?" "W'y sure, man. There's lots of sheep in Apache County that was never ten miles from home." "Then why does Jim Swope bring his bands south every Fall? I hear he loses five per cent of them, at the least, coming and going." "Ah, you don't understand Jim as well as I do. I was tryin' to make a livin'; he's tryin' to git rich.
"Well, now," said Robin, continuing a subject which often engaged their intellectual powers, "it seems to me simple enough." "Simple!" exclaimed Johnson, with a half-sarcastic laugh, "w'y, now, you an' the doctor 'ave tried to worrit that electricity into my brain for many months, off an' on, and I do believe as I'm more muddled about it to-night than I was at the beginnin'."
Folding the slender arms tightly across her breast, and tilting her wan face back with an imperious air, she exclaimed sententiously, "W'y, Mary Alice Smith is me that's who Mary Alice Smith is!"
"Weel, I wad jist say, in a general w'y, 'at I canna think muckle o' ony sermon 'at micht gar a body think mair o' the precher nor o' him 'at he comes to prech aboot. I mean, 'at I dinna see hoo onybody was to lo'e God or his neebour ae jot the mair for hearin' yon sermon last nicht." "But might not some be frightened by it, and brought to repentance, Donal?" suggested the girl.
"I don't like it layin' in bed all day and thinkin' that way. W'y, that'd make me sick!" He edged awkwardly over to where she was standing and lowered his voice confidentially. "I'll tell you, Miss Lucy," he said, "I've known Rufe a long time now, and he's awful close-mouthed. He's always thinkin' about something away off yonder, too but this is different.