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Updated: May 10, 2025
By criffens! it was sair, an' gin I had only had a horse's hair, I'd soon ha'e putten his tawse oot the road." "I got four yesterday too," said another, "an' a' because I was looking at yon new laddie wha cam to the schule yesterday. By! they were sair. I never heard auld Cabbage-heid till he cam up an' telt me to put oot my haun." "It's Peter Rundell's his name," chimed in another.
Macgregor rubbed his eyes and read: MRS. ROBERT PURDIE. 13, King's Mansions, W 3rd Wednesday. 'Oh, criffens! he groaned. 'Ma aunt! And proceeded with more haste than alacrity to tidy himself, while wondering what on earth she had come for. Willie, scenting profit in a rich relation, though not his own, proffered his company, which was rather curtly refused. Nevertheless, he followed his friend.
For Swipey had journeyed in the company of his father to far-off Fechars, yea even to the groset-fair, and came back with an epic tale of his adventures. Patrick Brown was cruelly incarcerate for wiping the floor with the cold refuser of the gin. "Criffens! Fechars!" said Swipey for a twelvemonth after, stunned by the mere recollection of that home of the glories of the earth.
'Are ye there, dearie? called a familiar female voice. 'Holy Moses! she whispered. 'It's Miss Tod, hame three days afore her time. 'Oh, criffens! gasped Macgregor. 'What'll I dae? 'Ye can either hide in the coal bunker, or bide whaur ye are like a sojer. She'll no devour ye. Christina then ran out to receive her employer, which she did without embarrassment.
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