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There's twa things Sandy Bowden's haen sin' ever I got acquant wi' him an' that's no' the day nor yesterday that's fairntickles an' cheepin' buits. I never kent Sandy bein' withoot a pair o' 'lastic-sided buits that gaed squakin' to the kirk like twa croakin' hens.
"Noo, lassie, wull ye haud yer tongue? I'm sair deeved wi' the din o' ye! Is there ony yae thing that a body may say withoot bern' interruptit? Gin it's no you wi' yer 'Grandmither! like a cheepin' mavis, it's him ower by lookin' as if ye had dung doon the Bible an' selled yersel' to Sawtan. I never was in sic a hoose.
I've seen the fowk sometimes turn roond-aboot in their seats, when Sandy cam' creakin' up the passage, as gin they thocht it was a brass-band comin' in. But Sandy appears to think there's something reverint an' Sabbath-like in cheepin' buits, an' he sticks to them, rissen be't or neen. I can tell ye, it's a blissin' there's no' mony mair like him, or we'd hae gey streets on Sabbath.
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