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Updated: May 21, 2025
'Ye canna du better nor weel; jist begin again. 'I had coft her a bonny cairriage, wi' as fine a pair as ever ye saw, Kirsty, as I daursay yer father has telled ye. And they warna lost upon her, for she had aye a gleg ee for a horse. Ye min' yon powny? And up til yesterday, a' gaed weel, till I was thinkin I cud trust her onygait.
Sae what suld my leddy but oot upo' the side frae the smithy, and awa roon the back o' the cairriage to the public, and in! Whether she took onything there I dinna ken, but she maun hae broucht a bottle hame wi her, for this mornin she was fou fou as e'er ye saw man in market! He broke down, and wept like a child. 'And what did ye du? asked Kirsty. 'I said naething.
Jean nodded. "Mrs. M'Cosh often says, 'There's mony a lang gant in a cairriage, and I dare say it's true. I don't want to be ungrateful, Pamela. I think it's about the worst sin one can commit ingratitude. And I don't want to be stuffy, either, but I think I was meant for small ways." "Poor Penny-plain! Never mind. I'm not going to preach any more. You shall do just as you please with your life.
'Are thae a' ae body's? asked Robert. 'Troth are they. They're a' hers, I wat. Ye wad hae thocht she had been gaein' to The Bothie; but gin she had been that, there wad hae been a cairriage to meet her, said Crookit Caumill, the ostler.
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