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Updated: June 16, 2025
Are ye no gaun to yon governess leddy?" "Yes, but I never thought of letting my hair loose; it isn't Sunday." "Na, but I would hae thocht ye micht hae dune it just this first day, an' yer birthday too. Yer hair's some bittie langer than Miss Blanche's, I'm thinkin'," replied Lisbeth, with satisfaction in her tone.
"Doctor, I hae a queistion to spier ye. Which is mair unseemly: a weel-behavin' bittie tyke i' the kirkyaird or a scandalous organ i' the kirk?" "Ah, Mr. Traill, I'm afraid you're a sad, irreverent young dog yourself, sir." The minister broke into a genial laugh. "Man, you've spoiled a bit of fun I was having with Mr.
"Ye'll pe seein' her for yourself whateffer," he said "Ye'll no miss her in the waters 'twixt here an' Skye." He stooped and fumbled in his basket, presently bringing out of it a small bunch of pink bell-heather, the delicate waxen type of blossom which is found only in mossy, marshy places. "The shentleman wanted as much as I could find o' this," he said "An' he had it a' but this wee bittie.
The old man stopped his sawing and looked at her. "I wouldna exactly say it's dreadfully wet," he replied. "It's maybe just a wee bittie saft, but no for to say wet." "O Peter!" remonstrated Blanche. "Not wet, and it's been simply pouring cats and dogs for four whole days, and mother wouldn't let me come out. I hope it isn't often like this." "Na, na, missie, only whiles."
"No," said Percival, curtly. "The wind was blowing at a bittie, but she went up the rigging like a sailor. I doubt if the lass would be afraid of the de'il himself." "Probably jolly well used to all this sort of thing," said Percival, wearily. "Indeed, no; this is her first sea-voyage. She never saw a ship before." "I thought you said she was the captain's daughter."
Now, here's you. Ye lie on your wame a bittie in the bield of this wood, and ye tell me that ye've cuist off these Frasers and Macgregors. Why? BECAUSE I COULDNAE SEE THEM, says you. Ye blockhead, that's their livelihood." "Take the worst of it," said I, "and what are we to do?" "I am thinking of that same," said he. "We might twine.
Having to get out very quickly, Bobby did a forbidden thing: swiftly and noisily he dashed around the dark place, and there arose such wild squawkings and rushings of wings as to bring the gude-wife out of the house in alarm. "Lassie, I canna hae the bittie dog in wi the broodin' chuckies!" She flung the door wide. Bobby shot through, and into Elsie's outstretched arms.
So she changed the subject in a measure. "Did ye ever hear o' John Milton, Tibbie?" she asked. "Ow! ay. He was blin' like mysel, wasna he?" "Ay, was he. I hae been readin' a heap o' his poetry." "Eh! I wad richt weel like to hear a bittie o' 't." "Weel, here's a bit 'at he made as gin Samson was sayin' o' 't, till himsel' like, efter they had pitten oot's een the Phillisteens, ye ken."
The yellow gas-light gave his face such a sardonic aspect that Sandy turned pale. "Wha's death, man?" Mr. Traill kept his own counsel, but at the door he turned: "You'll no' be remembering the bittie terrier that lived in the kirkyard?" The light of boyhood days broke in Sandy's grin. "Ay, I'll no' be forgetting the sonsie tyke. He was a deil of a dog to tak' on a holiday.
An' gin ye find 'im lyin' canny, an' ye tak' a keek into 'is bonny brown een, ye can see he's aye greetin'. An' so, ye didna ken why, but ye a' lo'ed the lanely wee " "Bobby!" It was an excited breath of a word from the wide-eyed bairns. "Bobby! Havers! A bittie dog wadna ken what to do wi' keys." But Glenormiston was smiling, and these sharp witted slum bairns exchanged knowing glances.
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