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'Frien'less has a white foot on de off front laig and besides dat he has a rough-feeling scab on de belly whar he done rip hisself somehow befo' I gits him. Dis dawg am smooth as a possum. "That settles all arguments. You can't fool a swipe 'bout a hoss he's taken care of. He knows every hair on him. "One day I'm clockin' this Alcyfras while a exercise-boy sends him seven-eights.
Weel, rizzen be't or neen, she fair dang me into sayin' I wud come wi' Sandy an' see her at the spring holiday; an' so we juist had to go. Sandy gaed on juist like a clockin' hen a' Sabbath efternune an' nicht. He had the upstairs bed lippin' fu' o' luggitch that he was thinkin' o' takin' wi' him.
Sitting over her father's peat-fire one night gossiping with him about fishing-flies and tackle, I noticed the grieve, who had dropped in by appointment with some ducks' eggs on which Bell's clockin hen was to sit, performing some sleight-of-hand trick with his coat-sleeve. This he gravely slipped into the hands of the maid of his choice, and then took his departure, apparently much relieved.
Joyce's uppermost anxiety was to avoid any betrayal of discomfiture, and she accordingly said in a loud and cheerful tone: "Och, and are you there, Andy? Jerry Dunne's wishful for the loan of a clockin' hin, so I'm about catchin' him the young white one to take home wid him." But, to her intense disgust, Jerry, who had followed her with his basket, said remonstrantly: "Whethen now, Mrs.
Sandy gaed shauchlin' oot at the door, chuck-chuck-chuckin' awa' till himsel' like a clockin' hen, an' I didna see hint nor hair o' him for mair than twa 'oors efter. But what cud ye expeck? That's juist aye the wey o' thae men when they get the warst o't. Crack aboot holidays!
"What ails dem der clocks?" shouted Dinah. "'Pears like as if dey had a fit, suah. Nebber heard such clockin' since we was in de country," and Susan, who had discovered the loss of her clock, laughed heartily, knowing very well who had taken the alarm away. When the fifteen minutes were up that clock stopped, and another started.
Sitting over her father's peat-fire one night gossiping with him about fishing-flies and tackle, I noticed the grieve, who had dropped in by appointment with some ducks' eggs on which Bell's clockin' hen was to sit, performing some sleight-of-hand trick with his coat-sleeve. This he gravely slipped into the hands of the maid of his choice, and then took his departure, apparently much relieved.
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