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Updated: May 11, 2025
There's no a sowl wants this hoose to stan' but the mistress doon there, that doesna want to waur the siller, and the rottans inside the wa's o' 't, that doesna want to fa' into the cluiks o' Bawdrins and Colley wha lie in wait for sic like jist as the deevil does for the sowl o' the heepocreet. Come oot o' the sun, lassie.
"I see," muttered Mr Cupples. "This'll do no longer. The laddie's gaein' to the dogs for want o' bein' luikit efter. I maun be up the morn. It's thae wimmen! thae wimmen! Puir things! they canna aye help it; but, de'il tak' them for bonnie oolets! mony's the fine laddie they drive into the cluiks o' auld Horney.
But as I said to Anerew, maybe he'll come oot o' their cluiks no that muckle the waur, efter a'." Mrs Forbes sank on the sofa, and hid her face in her hands. Annie turned white as death, and left the room. When Mrs Forbes lifted her head, Mrs Constable and her strange child had vanished.
Weel, he'll come oot o' their cluiks, maybe no that nmckle the waur efter a', as mony a man frae King Dawvid doonwith afore him." "Noo, wumman!" said Andrew, in a tone of authority blended with rising indignation; "ye're slidin' aff o' yer ain stule, and ye'll be upo' the grun' afore ye win on to mine.
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