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"Oh, I wasna mindin' that, Andra," replied Peter, trying to make Andrew believe that he had not guessed the truth. "I'll take the collectin wi' ye, an' Black Jock can gang to hell if he likes." "No, Peter, ye'll do naethin' o' the kind. I'll take it mysel'." And Andrew would not move from that decision.
"Yes damn you, and we've got ye now where ye can't do no more flankin'. Ye got ter fight!" "Trust Uncle Billy for that when the time comes " "Yes, and we've got Billy Sherman whar we want him now. We're goin' to blow up every bridge behind ye and ye'll never see home no more " "Uncle Billy's got duplicates of all your bridges fast as ye blow 'em up."
"Don't ye come here, ye divils!" shouted one of the men in goodly strong brogue. "If he does, it's cowld lead ye'll get!" cried another. "But, my good friends," Mr. Brown said, blandly. "Away wid ye, at once, and the divil take care of ye. We know ye." "If you know us, you should not fear us," my friend said, in the insinuating argumentative style so peculiar to him.
Already had the officers and crew of the bark gathered around him, making grimaces, and gibbering away like a flock of blackbirds surrounding a hawk, and just ready to pounce. "Don't I'se be tellin' yees what I wants wid 'im, and the divil a bit ye'll understand me. Why don't yees spake so a body can understand what yees be blatherin' about.
Ilka word that ye hear frae a worthless woman is an affront to yer mither." "Dinna stan' preachin' to me. I'm past that." "Alec, ye'll wiss to God ye hadna, whan ye come to marry a bonnie wife." It was a true but ill-timed argument. Alec flared up wildly. "Wife!" he cried, "there's no wife for me. Haud oot o' my gait. Dinna ye see I hae been drinkin'? And I winna be contred."
There's fesh and there's fowl or, maybe, ye'll be for the sheep's head singit, when they've done with it at the tabble dot?" There was but one way of getting rid of him: "Order what you like," Anne said, "and leave the room." Mr. Bishopriggs highly approved of the first half of the sentence, and totally overlooked the second.
This while my notion's ta'en a sklent, To try my fate in guid, black prent; But still the mair I'm that way bent, Something cries, "Hoolie! I red you, honest man, tak tent! Ye'll shaw your folly. "There's ither poets, much your betters, Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, Hae thought they had ensured their debtors, A' future ages; Now moths deform in shapeless tatters Their unknown pages."
"Ye'll be havin' ter help th' lady when we's on the mash," Captain Sammy told her. I discovered later that the mash is really a marsh, or swamp, or rather a whole lot of them. Sammy opened the procession, followed by Yves. Then I came, aided and abetted by Susie, and the doctor closed the imposing line, also bearing a big pack.
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