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She may be ill, but he's no' the pairty to saw't like neep seed ower a' the countryside." "You're richt there, Bawbie," said Mistress Winton. "I've tell'd Moses that till's face afore the day. They're scarce o' noos that tells their father was hanged."

He lookit like some berfit tinkler wife that had been too, an' had t'a'in, ower the heid, intil a barrel o' yellow oker; an' stickin' on his weyst there was ane o' my winda tickets "Just in To-Day." "O, Bawbie!" he wheenged, "gae up the stair an' see if the ruif's aye on. I think somebody's been hoddin' dianamite in oor garret."

But, still an' on, he's my ain man, the only ane ever I had, an' I'll stick up for him, an' till him, while the lamp holds on to burn, as the Psalmist says. "See if I can say my geog, Bawbie," said Nathan to me the ither forenicht, as I was stanin' in the shop.

When I cam' to mysel', here's Sandy lyin' streekit oot on his face i' the middle o' a box o' Hielant eggs that I'd juist noo opened. The strap o' the bushbie was roond his thrapple, an' was juist aboot stranglin' him, when I cut it wi' the ham knife. Then he akinda half-turned roond, an' says he, "O Bawbie! I'm deid. There's a bomshall gane throo my backbeen."

So I juist said in a kind o' jokey wey, "Ay, Sandy, an' hae ye seen the Ward Committee yet, laddie, aboot that Toon Cooncil bisness." As shure's ocht, he grew reed i' the face; but he got richt efter a whilie, an' he says, "We're genna be like the Skule Brod efter this, Bawbie.

What can ye mak' o' the like o that? It's my opinion sometimes that I was never meent to behave mysel'; an' yet I'm sensible o' doin' most terriple stewpid things of'en. It's a mystery to me, an' a dreefu' dwang to Bawbie. But what can ye do? You canna get medisin for that kind o' disease!

"There's mair in Bandy than the spune pets in; mind I'm tellin' you. He was tellin's aboot some o' the exyems in gomitry lest nicht, an', I'll swag, he garred Cocky Baxter, the auld dominie, chowl his chafts." "Exyems!" says I. "Is that the same as exy-oey we used to play at on oor sklates at the skule?" "No, no, no, no, no," says Sandy. "What are you haiverin' aboot, Bawbie?

"Oh, but I'll manish that, Bawbie," says he, gey snappish-like; "but still a man wi' brains in's heid canna juist be setisfeed wi' saft soap an' black lead a'thegither." "Ow weel," says I, "you wud mibby fa' in wi' a fell lot o' baith o' them, even i' the Toon Cooncil.

I thocht Sandy was raley gettin' akinda lichtwecht, d'ye ken, for I cud nether mak' heid nor tail o' his confused blethers. "Keep me, Bawbie, do you no' see through't?" he says, glowerin' at me wi' a queer-like look in his e'e. "Gie's three bawbees! Look now; there's thae three bawbees. Weel than, here's twa here, an' there's ane there.

"I think I'm better, but I'm awfu' licht i' the heid yet," says Bawbie. "Ye micht get the pen an' ink, Sandy, an' send a scart or twa to thae prenter bodies. Juist say I've taen a kind o' a dwam, but that I'll likely be a' richt again in a day or twa. An' see an' watch your spellin'. Gin ony o' the wirds are like to beat ye, juist speer at me, an' I'll gie ye a hand wi' them."