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Updated: June 20, 2025
Handsome is that handsome does, Kitty. Oh, how she would deave me with that old proverb. But here they seem to think beauty is a talent, and I ought to be desperately proud of it. Oh, faith, but why do I think of these things when my precious duck of a Laurie is in the mess he has got into. He go to England to break his heart, the darling!
Hech! but ye mak' din eneugh to deave a miller!" expostulated the warden, as he handed the receipt to McRae and turned his regards to the female prisoner. But the only effect of his words upon Faustina was to open the sluices of her tears and make them flow in greater abundance. "Eh, lassie, 'tis pity of you too!
She was nae great speaker; folk usually let her gang her ain gait, an' she let them gang theirs, wi' neither fair guid-e'en nor fair guid-day; but when she buckled to, she had a tongue to deave the miller.
"Nay," said Cicely, "she no, it was Tibbott the huckster-woman told me long ago that I was not what I seemed, and that I came from the north I cannot understand! Were they the same?" "The bairn kens too much," said Jean. "Dinna ye deave her Grace with your speirings, my lammie. Ye'll have to learn to keep a quiet sough, and to see mickle ye canna understand here."
She was nae great speaker; folk usually let her gang her ain gate, an' she let them gang theirs, wi', neither Fair-guid- een nor Fair-guid-day; but when she buckled to, she had a tongue to deave the miller.
But now I think on't, there were other reasons for laying this one by the heels. Hand me those depositions, young sir." And he put on his glasses. "Ay! she was implicated; she was one of the band." A loud disclaimer burst from Denys and Gerard at once. "No need to deave me," said the alderman. "Here 'tis in black and white. Ay, here 'tis.
"Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me: I said there was naething I hated like men The deuce gae wi'm to believe'me, believe me, The deuce gae wi'm to believe me." The rooms were hushed as the merry song rang out. The voice of the singer was arch, and her eye flashed slyly on Abel Newt as she finished, and a murmur of pleasure rose around her.
"The weemen are flighty and the lads are quate, and the hoose will no' be itsel' till ye will be moving about again, an' Miss Janet's lad will . . ." "I will not have Dan called that, Betty," says my aunt. "Ewan McBride's lad he is, if ye must deave me with his forebears . . ."
Instantly Bobby was up, tugging at her short little gown and begging to be let out. When she clasped her chubby arms around his neck and tried to comfort him he struggled free and set up a dreadful howling. "Hoots, Bobby, stap yer havers!" shouted the farmer. "Eh, lassie, he'll deave us a'. We'll juist hae to put 'im i' the byre wi' the coos for the nicht," cried the distracted mither.
"Hout tout, mither," cried Cuddie, interfering and dragging her off forcibly, "dinna deave the gentlewoman wi' your testimony! ye hae preached eneugh for sax days.
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