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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Noo, juist see an' mak' yersels a' at hame," said Mistress Mikaver, in her uswal fizzy kind o' wey. "An', as the auld sayin' is, gin ye dinna like what's set doon, juist tak' what ye brocht wi' ye," says Mistress Winton, an' set's a' to the lauchin'. You never heard sic a cratur for thae auld-farrant sayin's; an' Mysie's no' far ahent.
Puir lassie, it's lat me see; ay, it's twal' 'ear come Mertimas sin' she was taen awa'. Ay, man; an' she taen mair o' my heart wi' her in her bit coffinie than she left ahent her. A bonnie bit lassie she was, Bawbie, as ye'll mind.
The potatoes were burning, and T'nowhead had an invitation on his tongue. "Yes, I'll hae to be movin'," said Sanders, hopelessly, for the fifth time. "Guid nicht to ye, then, Sanders," said Lisbeth. "Gie the door a fling-to, ahent ye." Sanders, with a mighty effort, pulled himself together. He looked boldly at Bell, and then took off his hat carefully.
An' oot at the door he gaed, halin't to ahent him wi' a bang that garred the very sweetie bottles rattle. I was juist gaen oot at the back door on Wednesday nicht last week when I hears some crackin' gaen on i' the washin'-hoose, an' I lookit in to see wha was there. "Man, that's juist the very dollop," says Sandy, as I lifted the sneck.
The potatoes were burning, and T'nowhead had an invitation on his tongue. "Yes, I'll hae to be movin'," said Sanders, hopelessly, for the fifth time. "Guid nicht to ye, then, Sanders," said Lisbeth. "Gie the door a fling-to, ahent ye." Sanders, with a mighty effort, pulled himself together. He looked boldly at Bell, and then took off his hat carefully.
But there's times and seasons, as the gude Buik says, and it wud hae been an awfu' like business tae luik at a gless in Marget's gairden, and puir Domsie standing in ahent the brier bush as if he cud never lift his heid again. Ye may get shairper fouk in the uptak', but ye 'ill no get a pairish with better feelin's. It 'ill be a kind o' sateesfaction tae Marget when she hears o't.
On Setarday nicht he was gaen aboot hostin', an' spittin', an' sayin' ilky noo an' than, "Ay, Bawbie; it's a fine nicht the nicht." He sweepit oot ahent the washin' soda barrel twa-three times; then he rowed up the tnock that ticht that she's never steered a meenit sin' syne.
Preserve's a', when I lookit into the garret, here's the skylicht open, an' twa lang, skranky legs, wi' a pair o' buggers at the end o' them, wammlin' aboot like twa rattlesnakes tryin' to get to the fluir. I drappit the claes, oot at the door, an' steekit it ahent me. I keekit in aneth the door, juist to see what wud happen.
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