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Updated: June 4, 2025
You wasn't there, Miss, you was with your friends then but it made me SO happy! And I AM happy now, thank God! an' I take a pleasure, now, in doing little bits o' jobs for my neighbours such as a poor old body 'at's half blind can do; and they take it kindly of me, just as he said.
First time I seed her I says to mysen, 'Theer's a lass 'at's seed trouble; an' somehow every toime I seed her afterward I says to mysen, 'Theer's a lass 'at's seed trouble. It wur i' her eye she had a soft loike brown eye, Mester an' it wur i' her voice her voice wur soft loike, too I sometimes thowt it wur plain to be seed even i' her dress.
"Wha kens but that maybe 'cause i' their verra natur' they're ower semple for cr'aturs like hiz 'at's made sae mixed-like, an' see sae little intill the hert o' things?" "Ye're ayont me there," said Blue Peter, and a silence followed.
"We could raise steam, sir," suggested Galton, "and then pull all the levers and twist th' w'eels, sir and see w'ot'd 'appen." "W'ot 'ud 'appen!" cried two or three voices. "W'y, we'd hall be blowed galley west, 'at's w'ot'd 'appen!" "Sure Misther Madden can figger it out!" suggested Hogan cheerfully. "We might leave th' dock and run 'er 'ome by sail," suggested Galton. "No! No! Take th' dock!"
"Ha! to b'shure; 'at's poetical very good, very good, we'll wa-alk as we talk ha! ha! very good. Didn't know you wash a poet eh? don't look like 'un." "Come along, then," said Gorman, taking him by the arm. "Shtop!" said Ned, drawing himself up with an air of drivelling dignity, and thrusting his hand into his trouser-pocket. "What for?" asked the other. "I haven't p-paid for my b-beer."
Aunt Cornelia was beside her husband now. "No, no," Blev answered the look on the two faces; "nothin' ain't the matter of Sammy. He's jest married that little Huldy Frew 'at's been waitin' on table at Aunt Randy Card's ho-tel. You know, Aunt Cornely, she is a mighty pretty little trick and there ain't nothin' bad about the gal.
We've clomb the hill thegither, Donal', mony a time sair an' weary, but oor hairts were stoot when the brae was stae; but noo I've reached the bonnie bit ayont the brae, an' ye're a' 'at's wantin', Donal', to mak' it fair beautiful! But ye'll no' be lang ahint me, wull ye, Donal'? an' the Maister 'll come back to guide ye, gin I'm gone bye the gate.
It you'll hang around d' depot fer a little while after we get in I'll steer you up dere." "We'll make it worth your while, Sitzky," said Lorry. "Never mind dat, now. Americans ought to stick together, no matter where dey are. We'll have a drink an' 'at's all, just to show we're fellow countrymen."
'Now, Uncle Reuben, I don't understand a bit of what you've been saying, and Louie don't either. Who's Mr. Gurney? and what's his money? Unconsciously the young man's voice took a sharp, magisterial note. Reuben gave another long sigh. He was now leaning on his stick, staring at the floor. 'Noa, a' know yo doan't understan; a've got to tell tha 'at's t' worst part on 't. An I'm soa bad at tellin.
"Ye haud yer tongue, laddie," she went on; "it's the least ye can efter a' 'at's come an' gane; an' least said's sunest mendit, Gang to yer wark."
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